Legend of the Brothers' Fury (Zoor Zeymaha Nah)
by Waki Paki
Summary: When a pair of Twins get sucked into the Total Immersion mod for Skyrim, they decide to shape Skyrim to its' fullest potential, and have some fun along the way. Co-Authored by my brother. I do not own The Elder Scrolls or Skyrim.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Skyrim, The Elder Scrolls, or any of the films/games that we make reference to. All original Magic and Characters are owned by moi.

Chapter 1

Mikael banged on his brother's door. "Aramen!"

Said brother opened the door, putting on his glasses over his bleary eyes. "What, Mikael? You crash your computer again?"

"No, no, I found this cool mod for Skyrim," he hastily explained. "It looks damn good and I wanted to show it to you."

Aramen stretched and motioned for his twin to lead the way. Mikael rushed into his room and sat in front of his laptop. "It's called 'The Skyrim Total Immersion Mod'. It doesn't have any comments or pictures, and only a few downloads. But it seems solid enough," he informed as Aramen stood by the desk and looked at the description.

"Let's see, 'This Mod is a total immersion mod that brings the world of Skyrim to life for you'," he read aloud. "'Incompatible with all other mods. This is only for true fans of the Elder Scroll Series. If you are not prepared for the reality this offers, *DO NOT DOWNLOAD*.' Sounds serious."

Mikael nodded. "Yeah. But still, I think it looks pretty good. I already uninstalled all my other mods and installed this one," Mikael brought up the Skyrim launch screen, "I just haven't started it yet. Thought you might want to see it, too."

Aramen shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, go ahead."

Mikael clicked "Play", whereupon his entire laptop screen went white. "Well, shit," he vocalized eloquently.

"See, this is why you shouldn't mod by yourself, Mikael," Aramen chastised. "You don't know what you're doing. Now I'll have to fix your computer-"

Aramen was cut off as the screen turned blindingly bright, causing both of them to cover their eyes. When they opened them, they were standing in a vast, white landscape. The floor was indistinguishable from the sky. It was a blank slate. After a moment of gawking, Aramen turned to Mikael and punched him in the shoulder.

"Ah! What the heck was that for?" Mikael rubbed his arm.

"Just checking to make sure I'm not dreaming," Aramen said.

"Aramen, when you want to check if you're dreaming, you don't punch someone else. You get somebody else to pinch you."

"Whatever. Where are we?"

Mikael turned around and was shocked by what he saw. Aramen noticed his face and turned as well. In front of the twins were two large men; men who looked like the generic nords from the Skyrim Character Creation screen. In fact, in front of them was the Skyrim Character Creation Scene. There were sliders and the top categories for creating your person.

"Why the hell is this here? What's going on?" Mikael asked.

"Maybe this has to do with your mod," Aramen reasoned. " Shit, I think that's what it is."

Mikael's eyes went wide. "Total immersion… Aramen, you don't think-"

"Yes... " Aramen grumbled. "Your incompetency with modding is so great that it has caused me to have an aneurism and now I'm having a coma dream while lying in the hospital."

"No," Mikael retorted with an eye roll. "The mod somehow transported us to an alternate universe where Skyrim takes place-"

"That sounds retarded" Aramen deadpanned.

"-or maybe we were sucked into the laptop-"

"Or maybe stupidity has become infectious"

"-and either way, we're trapped, on our way into The Elder Scrolls," Mikael finished.

"Or your legendarily sucky skills with technology finally pissed off some god so much that he slapped us into another universe where there is no technology for you to fuck up."

"Or maybe the I'll get to be the amazingly awesome Dragonborn and you get to be my minion and carry all my shit," Mikael shot back.

Regardless of Aramen's quips they both conceded that Mikael was probably right, or that the given situation rendered the point moot anyhow. The two stood there in silence for a few minutes, trying to grasp what had just happened to them. Somehow they both knew they weren't getting back to their world. After all, you don't "win" in Skyrim. It was an RPG. You kept going forever. Even if they slayed Alduin, the game was never over. You just keep going.

But the more they thought about it, the more they realized that there wasn't much for them to return to. Their parents has passed away when they were young. They never had a lot of friends, at least none that would miss them nor would be missed in turn. They mostly just played on their computers all day, including playing Skyrim. And they loved Skyrim. They loved The Elder Scrolls in general, really.

"Maybe… this could be a good thing." Mikael mused.

Aramen nodded. "Not like we had much to hang on to, anyway."

"Plus," Mikael added, "Think about all the cool stuff we could do here."

"The magic alone is a world of possibilities. All the cool gear, the special items-" Aramen froze.

"What?" Mikael asked. "What's wrong?"

"Remember how you had to uninstall all your mods to run this?"

"Yeah… oh shit."

"Vanilla Skyrim."

The two then broke out into a string of expletives and curses that would make even the drunkest Nord take offense. The two loved Skyrim, yes, but they loved modding it into Oblivion (sometimes literally). It had been so long since either had gone vanilla that they couldn't remember how it originally played.

Regardless, Vanilla or modded, Skyrim was a dangerous place. The two of them needed a plan. They took the next three hours or so talking about what they planned on doing with the main quests, the Guilds, the DLC, and the side quests. They shot ideas back and forth before compromising on the most reasonable plans that would work out best for everyone.

Satisfied with their plan of action, the two turned to the inanimate avatars that they presumed would become their bodies. After a moment's consideration, they looked back at each other.

"So we're definitely not going to be Khajiit," Mikael started.

"Not Argonian either," returned Aramen "They don't even have dicks."

"We shouldn't choose Imperials or Nords because of the civil war going on right now. Wouldn't want to be picked out as one or the other."

"Probably wanna cut out High elves too for the same reason." Aramen continued blithely "Yellow is not my color."

"The Elves in general are kind of pricks. The Dark elves are wrapped up in their ancestry and the Wood elves are practically slaves at this point in the timeline," Mikael considered.

"Also I don't like how they look. Just throwing that out there."

Mikael sighed. "Me neither, but that long lifespan is really attractive."

"Vamprism, man." Aramen countered "Skyrim removed most of their weaknesses"

"Yeah, thank goodness for that. But back to races."

"Our options by this point are; Orc, Breton, or Redguard"

"Aramen, we were transported to an alternate universe or sucked into my own laptop and doomed to live out the rest of our lives as adventuring badasses in a fantasy world of magic and dragons. I don't think I could handle the weirdness of us being black on top of that."

"I don't think I need to say anything regarding Orcs so let's just move on to Bretons then, shall we?"

"Racial boost to magicka, a mix breed of elves and humans giving them a normal appearance…" Mikael rattled off.

"Weren't they kind of short in Oblivion, though?"

"Not so much in Skyrim. Besides, _we're_ creating them however we like."

So it was decided that the two would be bretons. As they approached their avatars to start sculpting them, they noticed how this character creation was far more extensive, giving them complete control on their appearance.

Mikael decided that he was going to make himself the man he always wanted to be. He knew his play style was going to be magic and stealth based. His character would be a towering 7'0 Breton with pale skin. His hair was pulled into a ponytail in the back with his bangs framing his face and colored white, but it looked more ethereal white rather than age. He had a full beard, but it was trimly cut very close to his face. His body was lean with muscle, built for swiftness and flexibility. He supposed he might want to be shorter, being the stealthy sort, but discarded the thought in favor of finally being tall. It would also impose the grand wizard look he was going for in public.

Aramen's avatar was sculpted after a soccer player. He was slender and muscular maintaining the physique of a large cat. His hair was the color of polished obsidian with some slight marbled white and kept in a long ponytail. The figure stood at 5'9 putting him shorter than his twin for the first time in their lives. His chin line was graced with a thin well trimmed beard beneath a thin and angled moustache.

Next to their characters was another screen, though it was different than what they expected. It listed the skills like Heavy Armor and Block, but they weren't skill trees. It looked like they had a choice to boost themselves up with knowledge and experience in skills before they started, giving them an edge. Aramen went for Smithing while Mikael took Enchanting. The crafting skills would complement each other and were damned useful in the game, just material expensive to level. Plus, if they weren't going to be limited by the game rules, these both had thousands of applications. Aramen also picked up some Archery for using a crossbow, Two Handed, Sneak, Light Armor, a little of Illusion, Restoration, and Destruction. Mikael took up Sneak, Pickpocket, Speech, Light Armor, Destruction, Restoration, Alteration, Conjuration, and One Handed.

Their playstyle was planned on being generally ranged, since it was better to take down targets from a distance, although they knew their enemies wouldn't be so kind as to just let the twins take potshots, so they were skilled in close combat as well. They weren't ridiculously overleveled or anything like that, but it was helpful to get them kickstarted. They both also absorbed some knowledge about cooking, housebuilding, and more menial human tasks that would be different in this world.

Finalizing that, another screen popped up. The only button simply said "Play". The twins looked at each other.

Mikael took a deep breath. "I guess this is it."

"Well, enough of the chick flick crap. Let's do this."

"Really? Chick flick?"

"Always wanted to use that line. Besides, you're now the only one who will get references and jokes like that."

"I suppose that's true," Mikael agreed when a sudden thought struck him. "How about this one?" Aramen looked over. "I've got something to say! It's better to burn out, than to fade away!" With that, he pressed "Play".

"Let's be big damn heroes." Aramen hit "Play".


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mikael and Aramen awoke to a jolt. The carriage had hit a few rocks and shook them awake. They both stared at each other as they took in the fact that these really were their new bodies.

"Hey, you," spoke Ralof. "You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us… and that thief over there."

The man looked over and glared at the nord. "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He turned to the twins. "You there, you and me. We shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

"Shut up back there!" the carriage driver shouted.

The twins tuned out the rest of the expository dialogue and looked around at the beautiful landscape. Skyrim truly was a land of frozen hills and harsh cold, but the natural grace it held more than made up for it. Mikael thought of the many mods he'd downloaded that improved the graphics of the game, but seeing it in person was breathtaking.

The carriage pulled to a stop. Everyone climbed out as Hadvar called their names.

"Lokir of Rorikstead," he drawled.

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" The man looked around and prepared to break into a run. Mikael nimbly stepped forward and tripped the thief as he tried to take off. The Imperial captain stepped forward and stomped on the thief's back. Lokir cried out in pain.

"Next time you try to run, I'll put an arrow in you," she growled as Lokir stumbled to his feet.

"Why? Why would you do that?" the thief glared at Mikael.

"Didn't notice the archers, did you?" Aramen inclined his head. "You'd have been shot dead before you could make the gate." Lokir remained silent as he trudged to the line.

"Wait, you there," Hadvar spoke to the two. "Step forward." Mikael and Aramen came closer. "Who are you?"

"I am Mikael Viator, and this is my twin brother, Aramen Viator." Mikael introduced them. Hadvar and the captain looked back and forth at them disbelievingly. "Yes, we get that alot."

"I see… Captain, what should we do? They're not on the list."

"Forget the list, they go to the block."

"I'm sorry, bretons," Hadvar spoke sympathetically. "We'll make sure your remains are sent back to High Rock. Follow the captain, prisoners."

After that followed the usual speech by General Tullius to Ulfric, followed by the strange sound that the twins knew was Alduin's call. The Stormcloak soldier stepped forward and was executed.

"As fearless in life as he was in death," Ralof murmured. Mikael couldn't help but agree.

"Next, the thief who tried to run."

Lokir sputtered and babbled as he was dragged to the block. The twins tensed and waited for the inevitable moment. As the headsman's axe was drawn back, the black dragon of time and death landed atop the tower and shouted, causing fire to rain from the sky.

They two knew the scene well, having played through the game many times. But by the Nine, it never could compare to the real thing. Even just looking at him, the two felt insignificant by the sheer aura of terror and power it let off. An unstoppable force of death incarnate, capable of leveling towns in minutes, something Helgen was about to learn firsthand.

 _And we get to fight him down the line. Fan-fucking-tastic,_ they both thought.

Aramen dashed towards the tower as Mikael helped Lokir up from the block. "Watch the skies, stay low, and make for the woods," Mikael told the thief.

"I-I, I don't - I can't - gods, a dragon -"

"Just go!" Mikael pushed him away and ran for the door of the tower. Ralof shut the door behind him. As the nords traded their lines, the twins got an up close look at the fabled Ulfric Stormcloak in the flesh. The man certainly was as impressive as he was depicted; strong, rugged, but worn down. A man who had lived through a war and seen hell, who would do whatever it took to fulfill his goals.

The twins climbed the staircase after Ralof and jumped through the hole to the inn, ducking and rolling as they landed.

* * *

Hadvar and the twins pressed themselves against the wall as one of Alduin's wings stabbed the ground next to them. As the dragon sat perched directly above them, they could feel the malevolence and power of the creature. _We have to fight this fucking thing,_ the two thought again.

"Quickly, follow me!" Hadvar shouted. They raced through the destroyed town until they came to the keep, encountering Ralof.

"Ralof, you damn traitor! Out of my way!"

"You're not stopping us this time!"

"Fine, I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

Before they could yell at the twins to make a decision of who to follow, Aramen spoke. "Ralof, the keep will be filled with Imperials. Do you want to fight through an army to try and escape?"

Ralof stopped as he considered that. "That may be, but we must escape, regardless!"

Aramen shook his head. "Then run from here. Rally your men and flee to the woods. The dragon is focused on the town, he will not notice you and your men."

It was clear that Ralof didn't like the idea, but another dragon shout blasted the building next to them, showering them with rubble. Ralof swallowed and nodded. "Stormcloaks! To me!" he cried as he dashed over the destroyed wall.

"In here, prisoners, follow me!" Hadvar called as he led them into the keep.

Once inside, Hadvar turned to them. "That was good work, convincing Ralof like that." Aramen merely shrugged. "Here, let me get those bindings off you."

"There's no need for that," Mikael told him as they both concentrated, using magic to burn off their bindings. Hadvar stared as the twins stretched their arms and tested their new bodies. "Well, take a look around. Should be plenty of gear to use. I'm going to try to find something for these burns."

As Hadvar searched the opposite corner for healing items, they took out the armor and swords from the chest and slipped them on. They also found two large rucksacks, which they were very thankful for. They had been wondering how they were going to carry things without the invisible and magical inventory screen.

"We're going to have to fight soon," Mikael whispered.

"Yeah, I know. But it's them or us." They swung around their swords a bit, getting used to the feeling. They both also tested out magic properly. The more they concentrated and the more effort they put in, the more powerful the spell became. It was tiring, but came back quickly, much like in the game. But they weren't limited to just casting _Flames_ like normal. As they had already attempted, they'd burned off their bindings easily enough. It stood to reason that they could control magic much more finely and with greater versatility than in the game.

They walked through the corridors and came to the gate where they could hear two Stormcloaks talking.

"Hear that?" Hadvar asked. "Stormcloaks. Maybe we can reason with them."

Hadvar opened the gate and stepped through, attempting to talk. The Stormcloaks noticed and charged with war cries. Mikael lit them up with fire as Aramen parried the greatsword from one. Hadvar slashed one in the leg and they fell, screaming from the fire until Mikael stepped forward and stabbed them through the chest. Aramen dodged another swing and followed up with a decapitating blow. They sheathed their weapons, breathing loud.

"Let me see if I can get that gate open," Hadvar told them as he walked away.

The twins took this moment to pause and deal with the fact that they had just killed two people. What bothered them most was how little it actually bothered them. They were distraught, but they didn't feel as bad as they thought it would. Maybe it was part of the way they were brought here or the bodies they inhabited.

During this, they stripped the bodies of useful equipment, including their gloves, and Aramen took the greatsword, feeling the heft of it in his hands. Mikael opted to wait until he could get his hands on some daggers for dual wielding. They took the rest of their equipment as well, planning to sell it off later.

"We should keep moving," Hadvar called.

The group came across a storeroom where the healing potions were stowed, and there were another two Stormcloaks. Mikael didn't give them the chance to strike first. He ran in quickly and quietly, grabbing the first from behind and driving his sword through his chest. Araman kicked the other down before he could turn and did the same. They paid no attention to the blood staining their clothes as they once again stripped the bodies, ignoring the questioning look from Hadvar.

After that, they descended to the torture room, where they swiftly dealt with the two remaining soldiers. Hadvar talked to the interrogator while Mikael picked up a pair of daggers. He also picked the lock to the other cell with some difficulty, but was beyond happy to loot the robes and the _Sparks_ tome. Mikael slipped on the robes, feeling the enchantment on it.

"Now this is more like it. A sneaky wizard." Mikael grinned.

Araman and Mikael quickly read through the spell tome, learning _Sparks._

"Alright, let's test it out," Araman said, and zapped Mikael.

Mikael jumped. "Ow! That hurt, you dick!" He threw a few bolts back.

"Give in to your anger!" Aramen yelled back, and the two imitated Sith Lords as they played lightning tag.

Hadvar, the interrogator, and the assistant stood off to the side and watched the spectacle before Hadvar cleared his throat. The twins paused, Araman holding Mikael's robes with one fist and a sparking hand poised with the other.

"We need to get out of here, if you are done fooling around."

They both stood up and gracefully dusted themselves off.

Down through the tunnel they went, opening up to a larger room. The twins prepared for their first fight with a large amount of enemies. The Stormcloaks had already spotted them and were rushing across the bridge. Aramen drew his claymore and readied a sweeping blow. Mikael gathered his magicka for a gout of flames, but yelled out in pain as he was struck in the arm by an arrow. _Shit! Forgot about the archers!_ Aramen gave a wide slash, making the Stormcloaks step back, and Hadvar charged forward, burying his sword in the leg of the first. The torturer's assistant jumped down to the lower floor and moved to engage the archers. Mikael concentrated and launched a lightning bolt at one of the archers, who stumbled back and dropped to a knee. Aramen, meanwhile, was a gleam of shining metal that struck flesh in his encounter, chopping through the enemy's armor. Hadvar kicked the wounded one off the bridge, where he landed on his neck, instantly dying. The torturer's assistant slew one archer as they fumbled for their swords, and Mikael launched another lightning bolt at the first, causing the man the fall to the ground, twitching, until his heart gave out.

Mikael ripped the arrow out of his arm and healed it, feeling mentally tired after such rapid spellcasting. Aramen likewise healed from his minor bruises and cuts. The pain they felt was a harsh reminder that this wasn't a game anymore. You couldn't just tank injuries and be perfectly fine as long as you had 1hp. It hurt like hell and would debilitate you as a fight wore on. They would have to be careful in their future encounters.

The assistant left to go back for the torturer, not that he was a great loss. Hadvar led the way into the caves with the twins in tow.

* * *

"You know, I don't mind spiders so much. That is, until they start trying to eat me."

Mikael spoke these words as he struggled to throw off one of the massive spiders that had landed on top of him as they entered the cave system. Aramen struggled to handle two that attempted to flank him, throwing out _Flames_ to ward one off while he chopped at the other. Hadvar was kneeling off to the side, gulping down a healing potion to remedy the bite from his shoulder and waiting for the poison to pass.

"Right?" Aramen agreed, skewering one of the beasts to the ground with his massive sword and switching to lightning. "They eat other more annoying pests around the house and make beautiful webs."

Mikael managed to electrocute the spider atop him and threw it off. "Well, with spiders these size, I suppose _we_ are the pests to them." While Aramen finished up, Mikael ripped off one of the meaty legs of the spider, then doused it with flames for a few moments, before cleanly cutting off the hair on the outside with his dagger and taking a bite. "Hm, not bad." Hadvar looked like he might throw up, but that could have been the poison still working.

"You can prepare your gourmet selection of dead enemies later, Mikael. We need to get out of here." Aramen extracted the poison from the dead spiders and focused his magicka to heal Hadvar.

"You two are strange, you know that?" Hadvar cut in.

"Yes," they answered simultaneously.

Hadvar merely sighed and proceeded deeper into the cave, ducked down to fit through the short tunnels and overhanging stone. In the light that shone down through the cracks, they spotted a large bear, slumbering peacefully. A _thud_ noise caused the bear to shift slightly, but did not wake. Hadvar and Aramen turned to Mikael, who was clutching his head painfully. Aramen smirked and turned away. His twin was not used to being so tall.

"We could try to sneak past it…" Mikael whispered.

"Or we could shoot it from afar," Hadvar suggested.

"I say we just charge forward and butcher the thing," Aramen added while drawing his greatsword, to which Mikael merely shrugged and nodded. _Not like we couldn't use the XP…_

Mikael charged up a large lightning bolt whilst Hadvar and Aramen moved forward quietly, hoping to get in a few good swings before the bear knew what hit him. Their clever plan was foiled when the bear awoke to their less than subtle approach, growling and turning towards them. Mikael launched his lightning bolt, which stunned the bear for a moment, giving the other two a chance to charge it. Aramen was knocked back by a swing of the bear's massive paws, raking claws across his leather chestplate. Hadvar stabbed straight through one of the eyes and dove backwards when it reared up in pain, whereupon a fireball blasted into its' exposed underside and lit it ablaze, the beast falling soon after.

Mikael ran to his twin who was swearing and healing his wound with magic. He cast his own healing to speed it along. The wound stitched itself together; leaving behind a clean torso, minus the blood and the ripped clothing.

"Gotta love magic," Aramen said, idly scratching the newly grown flesh.

Mikael nodded and looked at his glowing hand. Having already started with the knowledge of the self-healing spell, he was able to apply it to another person without reading the _Healing Hands_ spell tome. Same with _Sparks_ and _Lightning Bolt_. He suspected that this was another deviation from the rules of the game; as long as you knew the fundamentals of a spell, you could use it in other ways, such as the higher level spells, and (he hoped) creating entirely new ways to apply it.

With their final true foe of the cave vanquished, the trio reached the end of the cave and blinkingly stepped into the Skyrim sun. Mikael and Aramen could only stare out into the vast landscape before them. There was more to see than could ever be seen, more to do than could ever be done… if it weren't for the fact that the whole thing was based around a videogame where it was designed to be doable in a few in-game weeks.

A loud roar overhead caused them all to duck and hide behind a nearby rock and watch as Alduin soared away to who knows where, his destruction wrought and his presence made clear. Hadvar gave his spiel about going to Riverwood, suggesting they split up. He jogged down the path and left the twins standing there at the exit of the cave.

Alone, now, for the first time since they arrived, Mikael and Aramen took a breather, sitting down on a boulder. They stared at the rolling landscape that lay down the slope from them, huffing the chilly air, listening to the sounds of nature around them.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Well…" Mikael said after a while.

"Yeah," Aramen summed up.

With that stirring motivational speech, they stood up and headed for their first destination, The Guardian Stones. After a short walk and some treacherous cliff descending, they arrived at the three stones before them. Staring at them was the stony visage of The Mage, The Warrior, and The Thief. While it may be real life now, they had the feeling they'd work just the same as they did in the game; pick a stone and it would help you level faster in that respective field.

"I reckon we ought to go for the Thief," Mikael suggested.

Aramen nodded. "I plan on going for ranged combat, mostly. Besides, honor is all well and good for a lifestyle, but combat is for survival. Using every trick to make sure you win."

"Plus," the other added, "Magic will level up pretty quickly with how much I'll be using it. I want the stealth skills, but they're harder to level without going criminal."

They both put a hand on the stone, an odd sensation running through their bodies. They could feel a slight shift in their bodies, along with thoughts of lies, cunning, speed, and skill. They embraced the way of the Thief. A light shot up from the stone into the skies, and briefly illuminated the star formation of Thief on the stone before fading away.

As they walked by Embershard mine, they briefly considered checking it out to get some loot and maybe skill levels. A wandering pack of wolves nearby put that thought on hold while the twins chopped them to pieces. After the fight, they realized that they were both feeling tired, and opted to just press on until they talked to Jarl Balgruuf. With that in mind, in a short while, they stepped through the archway into Riverwood.

"A dragon! I saw a dragon!" Cried Hilde, the old woman.

"A dragon? You're crazy," her son Sven dismissed.

Mikael came forward and tapped him on the shoulder. "Actually, she's not. There _is_ a dragon, and it just burned down Helgen."

Sven nearly reeled back in surprise. "So it's true?" Aramen nodded grimly. "By the Eight… we're nearly defenseless here. Someone must warn the Jarl, quickly!"

"Calm down, we'll take care of that," Mikael told him. "For now, try not to alarm the townspeople. Panic will only make this worse."

The frightened man seemed to gather himself before nodding. "You're right. I'll try to stay calm. Be swift, friends," he said, before turning away.

The twins walked up to the Blacksmith, Alvor. It seems that with their break, they had been beaten there by Hadvar, who was wrapping up his explaining to a very serious looking Alvor, grinding a sword as usual.

"...and after we escaped from the caves, we split up, and I ran here to warn you." Hadvar heard the sound of footsteps and turned to see the two bretons. "This is them! These two were the prisoners who helped me. I couldn't have made it without them."

Alvor stood up and stretched out his hand, Mikael and Aramen shaking it in turn. "Name's Alvor. You have my thanks, Bretons, for aiding my son. Please, if there's anything you need within reason, feel free to take it."

"Actually," Aramen said, "would you mind letting me use your forge some time? I've been meaning to start working on some things."

Alvor smiled. "A fellow blacksmith, eh? Go right ahead, friend."

"Alvor," Mikael cut in. "We're going to go see the Jarl about this dragon. In the meantime, you should start working on forging some arrows. I don't know how many men here are good with a bow, but I'd say they fancy their chances better shooting rather than trying to stab it."

"Good thinking, and we'll need some people ready for fires as well," Hadvar mused as he and Alvor went for the door. "Take what you need, and good luck." Mikael put his hand to Hadvar's shoulder in farewell. Once the two nords were inside, the twins took a few things from the forge and slipped their bags back on, adjusting the straps for the new weight as they shoved off again.

"I swear, there should be some kind of extradimensional space spell for carrying so much stuff," Mikael grumbled. "No way the main character could lug around 500 pounds of equipment in his pockets."

"Video game, dude," Aramen reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah."

"And why bother having them prepare for a dragon attack? We both know Alduin never shows up here."

"I had a game where a dragon dropped into Riverwood. Its skeleton lay just across the river afterwards, and a few NPC's got killed. Figured they should at least have _some_ preparation."

Aramen considered that and agreed.

* * *

After a long hike, they finally laid eyes on the walls of Whiterun. Aramen and Mikael let out a sigh of relief. Chopping through a dozen wandering wolves and the occasional bandit was getting annoying, although they did get some decent equipment, including a crossbow that Aramen snatched immediately. But they knew they couldn't rest quite yet, even as the sun was setting over the horizon, not with the giant just down the mountain side. They currently stood atop a large cliff looking down at the surrounding farmland of Whiterun, searching for the Companions and their encounter with the giant. In a few moments, they saw the towering figure lumber into the area, where the Companions swiftly engaged it.

Aramen looked appraisingly at the battle. "We're too far away for ranged weapons, let's move down a little closer." They both nodded and took off down the cliff, letting gravity carry them rapidly into shooting range.

* * *

Aela and her party had been hunting this giant for the last three days, and it didn't disappoint. She'd daresay it even posed a small challenge. Her Shield-Brothers and sisters hacked away at its' legs, hoping to fell the beast so they might strike at the head of the giant. Or perhaps Tannen merely wanted a toe to pawn off to the local shops, he _was_ aiming pretty low on the foot…

The giant roared and swung his club in a low circle, knocking many of the Companions back, except Aela. She had the good sense to leap over the speeding club, giving her an opportunity to get a few quick hits in. Too late, she saw the giant's foot raise to stomp on her. Well, she wouldn't lay down and accept that! As she readied her sword, however, she saw a strange bolt shoot from the distance. It was strange because it looked like a crossbow bolt surrounded by a lightning bolt, different from an enchanted one. The projectile landed squarely in the side of the head of the giant with a loud crackle of energy, and the giant stumbled down to one knee. Aela was surprised, but did not falter as she leapt up and sliced the giant's throat in one clean swing, showering the ground with blood and splattering her shoes.

As the other Companions rose and dusted themselves off, the unknown archer made himself known. Or rather, archers, because there were two of them; one a towering mage and the other a striking ranger.

Aramen and Mikael fist-bumped. "So looks like the combo ranged attack is a viable option after all. Worked like a dream," Mikael commented as they sauntered on to the scene. They approached Aela and smiled. "Looked like you could use a hand. Everyone alright?"

Aela the Huntress appraised the two of them and spoke. "I appreciate your assistance, strangers. That was a fine shot. My name is Aela, the Huntress. We are part of the Companions of Whiterun." She looked at the others. "I believe we have only a few minor injuries, but we are otherwise fine."

"'Scuse us," Mikael said as the two stepped over to the wounded Companions and healed them.

Aela was now officially intrigued. These two seemed like very good potential recruits. "You two, if you are interested in joining the Companions, please come visit us at Jorrvaskr. We would be happy to see you."

The twins turned back to her. "I may have to take you up on that offer some time," Aramen said. "But not now. We have to inform the Jarl of Whiterun; there is a dragon on the loose, and it just burned down Helgen."

All eyes were now on the duo. "Did you say… a dragon?" One random asked.

"Yes, we did," Mikael told him.

"By the gods…" "We must prepare…" "I need to change my loins…"

Mikael nodded in a very business-like manner. "Yes. As you see, we must be off, but I hope our paths cross again."

Aela bid them farewell and the two bretons jogged to the gate.

* * *

Mikael and Aramen stepped through the doors of Dragonsreach, soaking in the atmosphere and looking around at the well-crafted woodwork and stone. Eyes coming to a rest on Jarl Balgruuf himself, the Nord man who shared a voice with about a dozen other Nords in Skyrim.

They adjusted their packs, now much lighter for having stopped by the trader and sold much of their excess equipment. It struck them as slightly creepy how the shopkeepers never questioned why they had several sets of bloodstained armor and weapons to sell, merely handing over the gold after a bit of haggling. They weren't going to complain about the good fortune, though, so they simply did the trade and left.

The two walked forward towards the throne and were stopped by a Dark Elf, a woman well into her adult years with swept-back red hair and war paint around her eyes. She was the Jarl's most trusted soldier and friend, Irilieth. "Halt!" She commanded. "What is your business with the Jarl?"

"We come bearing news of the dragon that attacked Helgen," Mikael said formally.

"Well, that certainly explains why the guards let you in. Come along."

Jarl Balgruuf the Greater sat slumped in his chair, but his eyes were piercing as he gazed at the two bretons. Like Ulfric Stormcloak, he emanated the Nord confidence and defiance, strong and hardy like the land they lived in. He looked vaguely uncomfortable in his Jarl robes, like he would more prefer a good suit of armor. "So. You were at Helgen? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?"

"We did, Jarl Balgruuf," Aramen told him while sending a look to Mikael.

Mikael caught his twin's eye and they smiled internally. "This thing could barely be called a dragon, Jarl…"

"It would be better to say it was a demon with wings…" They tried not to laugh at Proventus' expression, one of absolute fear. The Imperial man was just as unimpressive in real life as he was in the game. While intelligent, he lacked the spine to take care of problems. He would sooner negotiate his surrender than organize his troops.

"With midnight black scales…"

"Ruby eyes of malevolence…"

"Bringing forth fire from the very skies…" Mikael subtly used his magic to make the nearby fireplace's flames roar to life, causing Proventus to flinch.

"A thunderous crash with every beat of its' massive wings…"

"So full of evil, it did not leave Helgen until it was naught but a flaming crater in the earth…"

"Though we cannot be sure where it will strike next, we thought it only best to inform the nearest Jarl of the danger," Aramen finished smoothly.

"By the Eight…" The Jarl murmured. "I hesitate to ask, but is there anything else I should know?"

"Well," Mikael said, "Ulfric Stormcloak was there, too. He was going to be executed when the dragon attacked."

The Jarl very nearly snorted. "Of course, I should have known Ulfric would be mixed up in all this." He turned to his advisor. "What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strengths of our walls? Against a dragon?"

Irilieth stepped forward. "My lord, we should send troops to Riverwood at once. It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains…"

"The Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation!" Proventus cut in. "He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him."

"Enough!" Jarl Balgruuf said firmly. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" He looked directly at Irileth. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, My Jarl," she said with a salute.

Proventus bowed his head, failing to cover his disapproval. "If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties."

"That would be best," The Jarl agreed, as did the twins in their heads.

"Well done," Jarl Balgruuf again addressed them. "You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it." He motioned to one of his nearby guards who was holding something. "Here, take this as a small token of my esteem." The man paused for a moment, seeming to remember something. "I never asked; What are your names, travelers?"

"I am Mikael, and this is my twin brother, Aramen." The two bowed and noticed the look on the Jarl's face. "Yes, we get that a lot."

The twins looked at the guard, who held two magical amulets. A quick look told Mikael they were enchanted to boost Health and Stamina. "Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf," they said cordially, taking the amulets. "Should you need further assistance, please let us know."

"Well," He began, "there is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps." The Jarl stood up. "Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and… rumors of dragons."

The twins followed him over to the side room with alchemical and enchanting supplies strewn about, looking much like a disjointed wizard's workplace.

"Farengar, I think I've found someone who can help you with your dragon project. Go ahead and fill him in with all the details." The two could hear the tone in the Jarl's voice, like he was happy to be foisting this task onto someone else. He turned to the twins. "Succeed at this, and you will be rewarded. Whiterun will be in your debt." With that, the Jarl left.

Farengar Secret-Fire, the court wizard of Whiterun, turned and eyed the two bretons. "So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me? Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons ." He nodded to himself. "Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me."

"Why do I get the feeling that when you say 'Fetch' you mean 'Delve into a dangerous ruin in search of gods know what that may or may not be there?" Mikael said in a weary tone.

Farengar looked taken aback by having the words taken out of his mouth (A feeling that many in Skyrim would share, in time.). "Yes. An ancient stone tablet, to be precise."

Aramen knew that pretty much every conversation option in the game at this point led to Farengar being a condescending dick, but luckily he was not bound to such rules here. He snapped his fingers and cut in "Oh, the Dragonstone, right? The one in Bleak Falls Barrow?" Farengar's mouth dropped open in surprise and he stood there in shock as Mikael went over to his bookshelf and picked out a few spell tomes as well as a few cheaply enchanted rings, leaving a reasonable pouch of gold on his desk. Aramen patted him on the shoulder in a friendly way. "Don't worry, we'll take care of it." The two exited the room, leaving a very perplexed wizard gaping at the spot they stood in. As they left the great hall, they high-fived. Things were going well.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After their conversation with Farengar, the twins decided it was time to get some sleep; the sun had already set and they were dead tired. They walked down the steps and made their way to the Bannered Mare. They spotted Uthgerd the Unbroken, sitting in her usual spot in the back. As tempting as it was to want to fight her right then and there, they both knew they needed some more time to power up. Chuck Norris, they were not.

A small amount of gold got them two rooms for the night. As they settled down, they found that sleep would not take them. Mikael got up and went to the bar and got a drink, then saw his twin at a secluded corner table, nursing his mead. Mikael sauntered over and sat. Aramen barely paused in his draw of mead to look up at his brother. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

"The stars… they're very different here," Mikael said suddenly.

"Yeah," His partner mumbled. "In all our plans and preparation, all our focus on the story, we forgot just how far from home we truly are."

"Secunda really emphasizes that." Mikael took another drink. "Plus the creatures, the plants, hell; the air is different. Cleaner."

"Almost makes me feel bad," Aramen mused, "considering our plans and all. The bessemer steel furnaces I plan to build will impact this world in a visible way. Not just another drop in the bucket, but the first drops of rain that come before the downpour."

Mikael snorted derisively. "Damn price of progress. Hopefully we can limit the damage to the environment. Especially with magic, who knows what we could do. Maybe I could come up with some kind of pollution cleaning spell or something."

"Something alteration related, probably," continued Aramen before pausing to chuckle. "We really will have a magic fix to our problems. The kind of thing everyone was waiting for back on Earth."

"Honestly, I wonder if it wasn't too late for Earth already. The pollution was already bad. Even if magic could be used as a substitute for oil, the oil companies and whatnot would kill people by the truckload to prevent it from happening if they didn't discover it first." Mikael paused for a moment to get two fresh mugs and came back.

"Well let's not get all emo about it. Live in the now I say."

They took a second to enjoy the first sip of their drinks before Mikael spoke again. "So you plan on gunning for Serana. Who the hell am I going to go for, then? If we're planning on going immortal, I'd need the perfect woman to spend eternity with, assuming I wouldn't let them die and then remarry every century or so."

"I'd rather you not phrase it that way. Certainly I consider her attractive and personable but I'm not going to be forceful about it. Think of it more like romantic interest that I hope to see blossom rather than an RPG choice to be made or a dating sim of hitting the right flags."

Mikael rubbed the back of his head ruefully. "Yeah, probably should have put that better. Damn it, I suck at trying to talk about this. But you know what I mean. From what I've seen of the eligible bachelors of this world, their personalities aren't great. Some are pleasant and nice, but otherwise pretty meh. And they'd have to be a good Adventurer, too. I can't see myself settling down with the fruit vendor."

"Ah but my dear brother," Aramen interrupted, "this is no game. We are in a living, breathing world now. Who is to say what people we may meet off script? How many characters revealed to us because of our actions? And with immortality, you'd have eternity to find a soul mate."

Mikael perked up at that. "You know, you're right. Who knows who could be out there beyond Skyrim? Based on the way we'll be changing the world, it may attract all sorts of people from all over the world. Hell, our mere being here could mean there's already some lovely woman you never meet in game on a collision course with us. I just hope she's smart enough and crazy enough to be on our level. Thanks, Aramen," he finished, smiling.

"And I thank you for the glorious opportunity you have just presented me." His twin said with a grin. "Now enough of this chick flick crap and let's finish our drinks."

Mikael's teeth flashed, and they slammed their drinks back.

* * *

Mikael and Aramen left Whiterun, making their way across the snowy slopes to Bleak Falls Barrow. The two had read the spellbooks by now and were both practicing their magic as the walked. Unfortunately, just casting the spell over and over again wouldn't make you more skilled in it, you had to understand the nuances; how you were casting it, how the magic moved and affected things, and some theory behind it. The casting was simple, and Mikael read up on the theory parts while he cast it.

"See, even though all of the mods got uninstalled," Mikael talked while staring at the book with one hand, his other glowing dark purple/blue, "I bet we could recreate some of the spells from them. A few were _really_ good, but mostly involved manipulating the world. That's why I'm working on Conjuration and Alteration, with some minor Illusion. Like _Blink_ , and conjuring workbenches and whatnot.

Aramen's fingers danced with fire and healing at the same time. "Destruction and Restoration are fairly straightforward. They'll be easy to level and work with, especially since the two go hand-in-hand for combat."

"Speaking of combat…" Mikael commented while dropping to a crouch, his twin following suit. They were reaching the walls of Bleak Falls Barrow, and they knew an ambush awaited them.

"Let's sneak around the side and get the drop on them," Aramen whispered.

They trudged far out from the perimeter to the next side of the stone platform. They took the spot where there were no stairs to give them an element of surprise. This ledge had the outcropping where one of the sentries was posted. Aramen gave Mikael a boost up so that he could reach the platform, and he waited for the right moment. Mikael heard the sentry approach the edge, grabbed hold of the ledge, and yanked himself up. The guard was surprised to see a very tall mage with a dagger leap up in front of him, but could not marvel long as Mikael thrust his left dagger in the man's throat and pulled him back, tossing him over the side, Mikael dropping to grab hold of the ledge once more.

"Alright, get up there then pull me up," Aramen told him "Just let me loot the body real quick."

Shortly that was taken care of, and the twins now stood at the very far end of the site. They could see several more bandits ahead and readied to sneak attack, Aramen equipping his crossbow while Mikael summoned a ghostly wolf and prepared some lightning. The two nodded and sent their respective attacks forward, staggering two bandits. The rest quickly spotted them and charged forward, Mikael's ghost wolf following suit and intercepting one. Aramen reloaded and got another shot in, this time striking an arm, though that was all he had time left for as the other three closed in. Mikael poured flames on them, Aramen switching to his claymore and blocked two swords. Mikael danced around his charging enemy, only to be struck from behind, knocking the wind out of him.

Aramen parried the blows and swept the legs out from under an iron-armored bandit, stabbing his claymore through the downed foe. Seeing Mikael go down, he joined that fight as well and engaged a man wielding a warhammer. Mikael jumped to his feet with a quick heal and heard his wolf companion tear through leather, meaning that another bandit was dead. He whistled and pointed at his current problem, the wolf growling in response and leaping forward. Mikael simultaneously used cold to make the ground underneath the bandit icier, making him lose balance, and the ghost wolf tackled him over the edge. Aramen drank a potion of healing while his enemy circled, then with a warcry, charged. Aramen waited, twisting to the side at the last moment and slashed his side wide open.

A rigorous looting swiftly followed before the twins entered the cold, lifeless halls of Bleak Falls Barrow. As their first experience with a dungeon/tomb, they had to say they had a positive first impression; the dim lighting, the mold and dust that hung in the air, illuminated by burning torches on the far wall and sunbeams peeking through the cracked ceiling and falling amidst the dilapidated rubble. They could taste the age of this place, smell the death, and hear the idle chatter of the two bandits by the door leading to the inner sanctum. The Bretons looked at each other and dropped into a crouch, advancing forward.

* * *

"Oh no, a puzzle with spinning stone images and a locked door, whatever shall we do," Aramen said sarcastically.

"However can we overcome this masterfully designed locking mechanism with the answer to it literally ten feet above our heads," his twin added, just as blandly.

Snake, Snake, Whale.

"Truly we are master locksmiths, dear brother."

"So it seems, Mikael."

* * *

Mikael and Aramen stealthed down the stairs and caught glimpse of the corpses lying on the stone racks, some looking deader than others. Draugr.

"I say we aim for the legs and take him down as they crawl to us. We can always move back up the stairs and make it harder," Mikael suggested.

Aramen nodded and took aim. His bolt pierced the ankle of the draugr. It tried to climb up, but fell to the floor, his foot speared to a soft spot in the stone. The second crossbow shot landed in the shoulder, and the final shot put it down.

Mikael blasted his draugr with lightning, hoping to damage the nervous system enough to cause it to fall, but no luck. He settled for freezing it's feet when it charged, stopping its' sword arm inches from his face. Mikael batted it to the side with one dagger and stabbed it through the temple with the other. Thank goodness these ones were low level and easily killed.

Aramen kicked the re-dead Nord in distaste. "These things are only good for XP. Barely any loot except a few gold here or there."

Mikael nodded, then stopped. "Wait, wasn't there supposed to be three of them in the first room?" he asked. Aramen turned to him and his face shifted to alarm. Mikael immediately dove sideways as an ancient Nord claymore wizzed over his head.

"Restless Draugr!" Mikael yelled, summoning his wolf companion. The wolf growled and leapt forward, only to be cut down immediately by the armored Draugr. Aramen shot his crossbow, but the bolt to the chest didn't seem to bother the thing.

"See," Aramen said with a scowl and pulled out his own claymore, "this is why I hate the undead. They don't feel pain and aren't discouraged by a menacing look or a sword pointed at their face."

Mikael grunted and rose to his feet. With a brief moment of concentration, he summoned a bound sword to his hand and started shooting lightning with the other. "Flank him!" he shouted and ran around the creature while Aramen engaged with his mighty sword, the two great blades clanging together. Mikael barely blocked a spinning blow, getting cut on his right side, and slashed with his spectral sword. It chopped satisfyingly into the flesh of the draugr, but did not kill it. Aramen was kicked back and it focused on Mikael, who dodged and blocked a series of attacks, healing the damage he took as he went. Aramen got up and charged with his claymore. Mikael saw what he planned and pushed the draugr back, which got impaled on his twin's sword. The corpse, while immune to pain, seemed to notice something was wrong. While it tried to turn to face Aramen, Mikael ran forward and stabbed it as well. The light faded from its' hollow eyes and his ghostly sword disappearing shortly after.

The two took a moment to catch their breath and heal themselves. "First real tough fight, this one," Mikael commented.

Aramen hummed in agreement and picked up the ancient Nord claymore. "How many hundreds of years old and still better than iron." He tucked his old claymore away into this adventurer's sack and equipped this one.

The twins nodded to each other to each other and started forward again, once more moving stealthily.

* * *

"That is one big fucking spider," Aramen said calmly as he and his brother looked up at the ceiling where the great frostbite spider lay waiting for them, thankfully already wounded. They ignored the cries for help from Arvel stuck in the web on the opposite side of the room and made a plan of action to deal with the beast.

The giant spider was beaten to the punch of surprising its' prey when said prey shot bolts of lightning at it first. It dropped down and saw one very tall Breton with sparks coming off his hands, so it naturally charged. Mikael backpedaled through the narrow doorway where the spider couldn't follow and continued taking potshots.

However, it seemed that the spider wasn't quite as limited in the game, and so it thrust its' spider legs through the doorway trying the spear the annoying human creature. Which was exactly what the twins planned for, as Aramen hid right behind the doorframe and chopped the arms off when they reached inside. The spider reeled back and squealed in pain and hatred, so distracted that the twins were able to quickly take it down with more ranged attacks.

It lay dead in the middle of the room, missing two legs. The two adventurers looted it for a few gold and poison. Mikael broke off one of the sharp teeth of the spider as they approached Arvel the Swift, or Arvel the lying sack of shite who gets karmically owned in two minutes.

"Thank you for finding me, strangers. If you help me down, I can tell you all about-"

"The golden claw?" Mikael interrupted and burned away all the webbing surrounding Arvel. "Sure, we let you down and you tell us what you know." The last string shriveled and burned. Arvel dropped to the floor.

"Ha! You think I'd just give it up like that?" Arvel shouted behind him as he ran, not noticing the draugr shuffling forward to make his acquaintance.

The Bretons casually walked after him, hearing the sweet sounds of screaming and karma echo through the halls.

* * *

The light was very dim in the hallway leading to the spinning door lock. The candles were lit with magical fire and the twins looked around at the artwork.

"This stuff… it's really something, isn't it?" Mikael asked as he traced his fingers along the carvings.

"The wiki's never tell exactly what each one says," Aramen said, "but the general gist was something about the time of the dragons and how they lived then."

"It's like the pyramids of Egypt, or the cave drawings in Mesopotamia. They wanted to leave something behind for people to remember them by."

They stared for a minute more, then spun the symbols until the golden claw matched up and pushed it in. The sound of grinding stone was foreboding even though they knew what came next. Bats flittered down past them, the path leading to a giant wall with strange runes carved into them. The tongue of dragons. They could hear the whispers and slight rush of wind, the word calling to them.

However, they knew that Draugr Overlord lay waiting in his coffin. Mikael used lightning and ice traps and lay them all around the coffin, Aramen coated his weapons with the frostbite spider poison and put several ropes down to hopefully trip it up. Mikael also summoned a wolf and made sure it was ready to pounce.

With their preparations made, they turned to the wall, where one series of runes shone brightly to their eyes. They came closer and colors swirled forth, through them, understanding flooding their brains. It was common knowledge the first word in Unrelenting Force was _Fus_ , but knowing the word and comprehending it was two very different things. Their vision dimmed and slowly returned, both looking at the other.

"Well, I guess that answers whether we're both Dragonborn are not," Aramen said.

The sound of the coffin top popping off had them turn. The Draugr Overlord didn't even have time to climb out of his resting place before the ghost wolf jumped on top and started tearing away. Had the draugr been standing and could swing his axe, he could have easily killed the wolf, but in his prone position, he could only wrestle with it.

In short order, the spectral wolf was killed with a strong punch from the undead. It climbed out of its' tomb, wanting to see just who had dared disturb its' slumber. It stepped immediately into several ice and lightning traps, causing icicles to impale its' legs and then shatter from the lightning, doing even more damage. Looking ahead, the draugr saw two Bretons with fire in both their hands.

"How about a little fire, Scarecrow?" Mikael asked with a manic grin, and the two let loose a gout of flames on the undead. The blast knocked the Overlord back a few steps, and the two took this moment to run, getting some distance from the monster. Aramen switched to his crossbow and shot bolt after bolt, though a few went wide. Mikael alternated between bolts of lightning and fireballs. The draugr was thoroughly singed now and had taken a good deal of damage by the time it closed in on Aramen.

Aramen had his claymore out and swung first, but was caught off guard when the Overlord parried the blow and smacked him with the hilt of his battleaxe, then cut into his armor with a quick hit. Mikael jumped from behind with a bound sword and stabbed it, but was backhanded with the flat of the blade. They ran towards each other and healed, readying their weapons for the next step. It was then that the Overlord made use of its' dragon tongue and gave a mighty " _Fus Ro Dah!_ "

Both twins were knocked backwards, barely keeping their feet as the Overlord bared down on them. Aramen's armor soaked a few hits, but Mikael in his robes got the worst of it, and had to be constantly healing in his off hand while desperately parrying and attacking.

The draugr swung wide, making both twins jump back. Mikael ran forward and slid, chopping at the undead's leg as he passed. It didn't cut off the foot, but the creature stumbled as one leg was pulled back. This distraction let Aramen jump forward and uppercut, blowing the helmet off the Overlord. It clacked its' teeth in annoyance and punched Aramen in the ribs while his arms were up high. The sound of ribs cracking could be heard as Aramen skid a few feet, grimacing. Mikael hit the draugr with a crackle of lightning, momentarily stunning it, and ran to heal his brother.

"Aramen, *pant* I got an idea," the taller twin said between heavy breaths. "Get some *pant* distance and *pant* switch to your crossbow. Keep aiming high."

"I'm on it. Don't get killed," the other replied and ran back. Mikael focused no more on attack, just dodging. He jumped back from overhead swing, danced around a side swipe, all the while buying time for Aramen. Aramen shot several bolts in the now porcupine-looking undead. Mikael took a full power attack from the draugr and was pushed down to a knee. The draugr wound up for another swing. Mikael simply waited, watching his twin, his sword poised and waiting.

Aramen shot another bolt aimed straight for the head of the draugr, but it had the good sense to dodge out of the way, yanking its' head to the side. This was what Mikael was waiting for. With a battlecry, Mikael swung his sword across his body and decapitated the draugr with a great cleave. The lifeless head dropped to the floor, the rest following soon after.

The twins approached each other, breathing hard and looking worse for ware. Both's clothes were torn and tattered, seemingly beyond repair. Blood flowed from wounds they were too tired to heal. They looted the body and the chest, drowning out the sound of Meridia calling them to her temple with the beacon. Not like she was listening for a response anyway.

They spent a few minutes taking a break and healing back up, but they would be happy just to get back to Riverwood to sell all their excess crap and maybe get some new gear. They stepped out of the dungeon back into the frigid open air of Skyrim and took a deep breath.

"Well, I'd say that was a successful first dungeon," Mikael said proudly.

"Yeah," Aramen responded, "but we still need a lot of practice or some much better items before we're ready to go toe-to-toe with some of the harder monsters. I'd hate to try and take on a giant with just us two, know what I mean?"

"Aramen, just enjoy the moment. Bask in the scent of blood and victory."

"That blood is ours."

"So is the victory."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mikael and Aramen trudged back to Riverwood, swinging by the trader to return the Golden Claw and sell off their loot. They noticed that the local guards seemed more on edge, and kept glancing up at the sky, no doubt searching for any signs of dragons. Buckets were lined up along the river, waiting to be filled and tossed. They noticed Alvor hard at work at his forge, true to his word, busy making arrows. He looked over at the twins when they approached.  
"Afternoon, lads. What can I do for you?" Alvor asked, wiping sweat from his brow.

"I was just hoping we could borrow your grinding wheel," Aramen answered, hefting his Nordic claymore. "Picked this up and it could use some maintenance."

"Of course, go ahead."

Mikael looked around curiously. "Hadvar returned to work, then?"

"Yeah," Alvor said, pumping the bellows. "He knew the Empire would need to be briefed on what he saw in Helgen. Sorry to cut this short, but I need to get these arrows finished."

Alvor waved his hand at them and stuck his head back over the forge. Aramen got busy grinding while Mikael practiced rapidly summoning and dispelling his bound swords with his right hand, levitating some metal bars around with the other. In a few minutes, Aramen finished and the two set off.

* * *

Mikael and Aramen strode through the large doors of Dragonsreach, patting their bellies appreciatively. The stalls in the market sold decent food, and the meat was easily cooked with a quick application of magic fire.

"You see?" Farengar was explaining to a hooded figure as they approached "The terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier. I'm convinced this is a copy of a much older text. Perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War. If so, I could use this to cross-reference the names with later texts"

Delphine stood up. "Good. I'm glad you're making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers."

Farengar stood up taller. "Oh, have no fear. The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest, so now I'm able to devote most of my time to this research."

"Time is running, Farengar, don't forget. This isn't some theoretical question, Dragons have come back." Delphine looked at him sternly.

Farengar looked nervous. "Yes, yes. Don't worry. Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable…"

Delphine looked over at us. "You have a visitor."

"Hmm?" Farengar turned. "Ah, yes, the Jarl's protege! Back from Bleak Falls Barrow? You didn't die, it seems." The twins rolled their eyes and handed him the stone. "Ah! The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! Seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way."

"So, what's next?" Aramen asked.

"That is where your job ends and my mine begins. The work of the mind, sadly undervalued in Skyrim," Farengar lamented. The twins shared a brief feeling of understanding for the absent-minded mage. He glanced at Delphine. "My… associate here will be pleased to see your handiwork. She discovered its location, by means she has so far declined to share with me." Farengar fully turned to the woman now. "So, your information was correct after all. And we have our friends here to thank for recovering it for us."

Delphine gave the two an impressed look. "You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work. Just send me a copy when you've deciphered it."

"Farengar!" Irileth's voice called. The Dark Elf appeared in the archway. "Farengar, you need to come at once. A dragon's been sighted nearby. You should come too," she said, indicating the twins.

Said twins ignored Farengar's questioning as Delphine quietly made her exit. When she passed them, the two looked at each other and smirked briefly before returning to their neutral faces and made their way upstairs.

The Jarl was speaking to a random guard. "So, Irileth tells me you came from the western watchtower?"

Once again, the Breton brothers decided to tune out most of the conversation. Aramen shrugged off his pack and checked his equipment, ensuring his crossbow was strung tightly and his bolts were sharp. Mikael went over to the table with maps and jotted down the locations of the fortresses.

"Good, don't fail me,"Jarl Balgruuf said to Irileth. The twins walked over.

"There's no time to stand on ceremony, my friends-"

"That's fine, we're not into pomp and circumstance anyway," Mikael interrupted.

"You've got a dragon problem, we're the exterminators," Aramen told him with a grin.

"Just say the word, Jarl, and we'll be at that watchtower."

Jarl Balgruuf was taken aback, before he flashed a small grin. "I knew I could count on you two. You have my gratitude. I've informed Avenicci that you are allowed to purchase property in the city, and take this as a gift from my personal armory." He handed Aramen a pair of leather gloves that Mikael appraised to have a Marksman enchantment, while he received a similar pair with One-Handed enchantment. They both equipped them immediately and flexed their fingers.

"Irileth, we'll go on ahead and keep an eye on the skies," Mikael informed the Dark Elf. She nodded and spoke with the Jarl.

* * *

Irileth jogged over to the rock the twins were crouched beside. Behind her was a platoon of men, easily around 15 men and women, which struck the twins as odd. In the game, she only brought 4, but it makes sense in reality that she'd bring more. It was a goddamned dragon, Not some drunken mercenary. "Any sign of the dragon?" They shook their heads. "Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we're dealing with."

The men all drew their weapons and moved forward cautiously, looking around. The twins made their way to the toppled concrete and saw the single guard hiding behind a wall, eyes darting to the skies manically.

"No! Get back! They're still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!" The man yelled at them.

Mikael looked at Aramen, both equally confused. "They? Don't you mean it?"

A roar echoed, and the guard flnched. "Kynareth save us, here they come again…"

And then a second, distinctly different roar was heard, and the twins paled.

"Well," Aramen said.

"Shit," Mikael finished.

Soaring above their heads were two dragons; one green and silver tinted, the other red. They circled together over the heads of Irileth, the twins, and the guards. The two bretons immediately shrugged off their travel packs and pulled out some poison.

"Here," Aramen told them hurriedly, "This is poison from Frostbite Spiders. Coat your blades in it."

"What good is spider poison to dragons?" one guard asked fearfully.

Irileth, on the other hand, immediately started dousing her quiver of arrows in the stuff. "It's better than nothing, and we need all the help we can get."

Mikael leaned over to Aramen. "Do you think this is because there's two of us here and the mod detected it?" he murmured.

Aramen merely shrugged. "Doesn't much matter." The dragons roared overhead again. "Look, I've got a plan. Give me your stamina potions."

Mikael pulled out every green potion he had. "Okay, what's the plan?"

Aramen tucked them in every belt loop and strap he had on him. "I run around and distract one dragon, while you guys take out the other. Then we can swamp the last one."

Irileth turned to him with a shocked look. "That's the most foolish and half-baked idea I've heard since a man tried to assassinate the Jarl by poisoning his cheese."

"I like it," Mikael said, nodding, much to Irileth's further confusion. They both knew that fighting a dragon was going to be hell without having to worry about another one blindsiding them. They had a feeling Irileth knew it was a decent plan… except that they were squishy mortals taunting a dragon, instead of distracting Draugr or something.

The Dark Elf shook her head, but turned back to her soldiers. "Alright! The Breton here will distract one of the dragons while we take care of the other. Stand firm, and make every shot count!"

The twins looked at each other and bumped fists. "Don't keep me waiting too long, yeah?" Aramen said with a smirk.

"I guess I shouldn't hog all the fun," Mikael responded, his face a mirror of his brother.

Aramen cracked his neck, watching the red dragon flying low, then fired off a shot, managing to clip the wing, drawing an angry roar. "Bring it on, you toothless worm! I wouldn't even make boots out of you!" He yelled while running off in a random direction.

Mikael charged up a lightning bolt and struck the green-silver dragon, catching its' attention. "Come get some, bacon breath! Try me, you son of a kobold!"

The guards looked to each other and agreed that these two were either completely mad or had balls the size of watermelons, and readied their weapons.

The green-silver dragon descended down on the other group, a veritable hail of arrows shooting up at it, intersped with lightning flashes. From its' maw came a gout of cold, frostbiting most of the guards. Mikael shielded himself with a cloak of fire, while Irileth dodged out of the way. The dragon took off, the beating of its' wings knocking half the guards to the ground. Mikael ran around healing while the guards attempted to shoot the dragon, but it flew too high for the arrows to reach.

The green-silver beast swooped down low on the group, snatching up two men and crushing them, tossing aside their mangled bodies. It flew another lap above the crowd, then slowly dropped to the ground in front of them. The guards all drew their swords and charged, hacking away at the scales of the dragon. Irileth stood back with her bow, aiming for the eyes, but the dragon thrashed about and chomped on the Whiterun soldiers. Blood spurted from yellow armor, and more men fell. Mikael ran behind it, blasting it with lightning. The dragon flicked its' tail and slammed into Mikael, throwing him back against the brickwork of the tower.

The beast took off with a gust of wind and was airborne. Mikael chugged a healing potion to conserve his mana and looked at the contingent of men and women, now down to 11. He swore.

"Irileth!" Mikael shouted, getting her attention. "Next time it lands, try to pin it down. We can't let it take off again!" The dark elf nodded and stowed her bow, drawing her sword.

The group continued to launch magic and arrows at the dragon, some connecting and weakening it further. It swooped down for another landing, though much less steady than last time. Seeing the beast so worn out boosted the morale of the soldiers, and they charged forward with renewed vigor.

Irileth ran quickly behind the dragon. With a shout, she drove her sword through its' tail and into the earth. The dragon bellowed out, furiously swiping at the guards that chopped at its neck, body, and wings. Many guards were knocked back, a few killed as razor sharp teeth bit into flesh. Mikael switched to his bound swords and joined the fray with the others. He grit his teeth, blocking a clawed hand, but didn't see the wing behind him flex inward and smack him to the ground. Mikael groaned and spat blood, and saw a clawed foot raised above him. He rolled to the side and stabbed the foot as it came down, though it still caught his robe. The cloth covering was shredded nearly to pieces by now, and he could feel the enchantment weaved into it fading.

Irileth nocked three arrows into her bow and let them fly, one embedding into the eye of the dragon. It roared with ice, pushing the guards back. Mikael seized the opportunity and stood up quickly, hopping onto the dragon's back. He furiously stabbed its' neck, and shoved one sword through the jaw of the dragon, then slit its' throat with the other. With a final whimpering cry, the green and silver creature flopped to the ground, dead. Mikael slid off the front.

"Damn nice shot, Irileth," He quipped, combing his hair back out of his face, his tattered robes damp with sweat.

The dark elf nodded, giving a brief smirk, before her attention was caught by something behind her. "What is…?"

Mikael turned to see the skin flaking off the dragon, the muscle and blood burning away, and magic enveloped both his and the corpse's body as he felt a rush of energy. It felt… good. The soul of a dragon was absorbed by his body, and he felt…

"What about your brother?" One of the remaining 9 guards asked.

"Oh, shit."

* * *

Aramen was never much of an athlete in life. Much like his twin, he spent most of his time playing games. He wasn't a fat, lazy slob or anything, but he certainly wouldn't have won any races in his old life.

He contemplated this as he ran full sprint from a giant red flying lizard death kaiju, beyond grateful that his body, like with fighting, was built for that sort of thing. Even so, his chest heaved with each breath, and he was chugging stamina potions by the bottle, tossing the empty decanters at the dragon when it was close enough and taunting it all the while. "You call that fire? I've burped bigger fireballs than that at the tavern! You overgrown gecko! Can't even catch a single Breton?" The red dragon spat another fireball at him, which he mostly dodged, beating out the sparking flames on his shirt.

"Hey! Aramen! Quit fooling around and get over here!" A familiar voice shouted from a few hundred meters away. Aramen saw his twin waving his arms frantically, as well as a skeletal dragon corpse lying nearby. He grinned and ran towards him.

* * *

The remaining 9 guards steeled themselves as they saw the other breton running towards them, dragon in hot pursuit. They were fully healed again, but hardly brimming with confidence, having nearly half their number cut down with a single dragon.

Even Irileth looked slightly concerned standing next to Mikael as the other beast closed in on them. She had fought many enemies in her time; from hired thugs to bandits to skilled assassins, but seeing the second flying death lizard barreling towards her left her understandably apprehensive.

She was shaken out of these thoughts when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Mikael smiling at her. "Don't worry. With my twin and I combined, there's no doubt we can win this. But you might want to take a few… or a lot of steps back, and get ready to shoot. You'll know when."

Irileth took a breath, then nodded and retreated backwards. Mikael meanwhile looked at his twin rapidly approaching. "You thinking what I'm thinking, Aramen?" he yelled.

"Probably!" Aramen shouted back, drawing his claymore.

Mikael crouched and interlaced his fingers, holding them low. The red dragon opened its' mighty jaw, ready to snap up the shorter twin, when Aramen reached his brother. He planted his foot into Mikael's fingers, and Mikael launched him upwards with all his might and flung himself backwards, rapidly summoning one sword. The red dragon bit on nothing but air, even as several arrows courtesy of Irileth and the remaining guards pierced its' open mouth. As Aramen was launched into the air, he twisted his body with his claymore pointed down and used it to cleave straight through the right wing of the dragon as it sailed by, letting its' momentum do the cutting and grabbed on to the tail, ready to strike when it landed. Mikael, having dropped low, did the same with his own sword on the left side. As the dragon flew past, he felt pain shoot through his arm.

 _Broken wrist_ , he thought to himself.

The red dragon plowed into the ground, leaving a deep trench 50 feet long, bellowing in agony from having both its' wings dismembered and choking on arrows. Aramen landed gracefully, ducking into a roll. He also spotted the guards and Irileth preparing to attack.

"No, get back!" Aramen shouted.

They did not hear him very clearly, and so the soldiers were caught off guard when the dragon wreathed them in flames with fury. The men and women screamed and fell. Even Irileth was caught in the blast, boiling her arm and leg as she tried to leap away. Aramen ran towards the dragon with a yell, distracting it enough for Mikael to help the others, healing those who could be saved.

"Listen," the taller twin said to Irileth, "My brother and I will try to draw its' attention. Surround it and start stabbing."

She shook her head, looking at his wrist. "You should get back. You can't be in any condition to keep fighting. My men and I will help your brother."

"Hey, trust me," Mikael said with a grin. "We're the exterminators, remember?" He didn't wait for a response and ran back to help his brother.

Aramen was having a hell of a good time. The dragon could barely stand, but it still fought viciously, twisting its' neck to bite and batter the Breton. He necked healing potions as he was bruised and bled, but he was enjoying the thrill of the battle. Mikael stood back, launching ice shards and electric bolts. He specifically avoided getting close to the dragon for two reasons: One was that when the dragon was killed, he didn't want to accidentally steal the dragon's soul from his twin, and the other reason was that he didn't want to be anywhere near his twin when he was going crazy with a claymore like that. The guards surrounded the sides of the dragon while Aramen drew the aggro, steadily chipping away at the hardened scales.

Aramen deflected a bite from the dragon, chopping off a tooth in the process. He jumped on top of the dragon, twirling his blade while it blossomed with fire, and impaled it straight down into the skull of the dragon. It didn't even have time to wail as it went limp and died.

Aramen removed his blade and climbed down, and after a short light show, felt the dragon's soul being absorbed, too. And what a sensation. He felt more energized, and something else, as well…

Irileth and the guards came out from behind the hiding spot as they heard the end of the battle, enough time to see Aramen get shiny, too. One of the guards walked towards them. "I can't believe it," he spoke in awe. "You two, you're-"

"Dragonborn?" They both said at the same time, grinning. They turned to each other and high-fived, Mikael wincing. The twins then looked to the two corpses and went in to loot the loose skin and bones left behind. They had plans for them.

"Oi, Irileth," Mikael shot over his shoulder while he climbed over the corpses, "we're going to head back and let the Jarl know what happened. See you later."

The guard looked dumbstruck as the apparent two Dragonborn just walked off, bits of dead dragon poking out their rucksacks, seemingly uncaring of the power they possessed.

"Dragonborn? What's that?" one of the other guards asked.

"Those that are born with the blood of the dragons in them. They can absorb the souls of dead dragons, like old Tiber Septim. Didn't you see what happened to the bodies when they died?" the first one explained. "I bet they can Shout now, too. Wish they could have showed us."

Another guard turned to the Dark Elf. "What do you think, Irileth? You're being awfully quiet. What do you think of this Dragonborn business?"

She humphed at him. "I think you fools would be better served placing your faith in your swords than prattling on of something you know nothing about." She nodded to one of the corpses. "There's a dead dragon. That's something I can understand. I don't need some mythical Dragonborn."

* * *

 _"DOVAHKIIN!"_

The twins flinched as they heard, or rather felt the Voice of the Greybeards. However, they still grinned and walked through the gates of Whiterun, spotting the two Alik'r Warriors getting chewed out by the guard. As they turned to leave, they spotted the two Bretons.

"You there, we're looking for a woman. A Redguard, like us. We're willing to pay for information about her," one told them.

"Yeah, we'll keep an eye out," Mikael said.

They then walked straight to the Bannered Mare and to the back room to where Saadia stood tending to the food.

"Did you know there are Alik'r Warriors looking for a redguard woman?" Aramen asked casually.

"There are what?" Saadia asked, startled. "Oh no, they've found me. Please, come with me. I need your help." With that, she turned and walked up the stairs. The twins followed her. Upon reaching her room, she turned and pulled a knife out on them. "So, are you working for them? How much did they offer you? How many are there coming for me?"

They looked at the redguard woman, unimpressed. They both conjured balls of fire in their hands. "You may want to put that thing down before you get hurt."

She looked somewhat sheepish. "Yeah, uh, sorry. Look, I'm just not sure who to trust right now. But I could really use your help."

She explained who she "really" was and asked them to talk to the prisoner. The two made a noncommittal answer of helping, but she seemed to take it as a sure thing.

They jogged back out of the inn, out through the gate, and chased after the two redguard men.

"Hey," Aramen called out, and they spun to look. "We found the woman you're looking for. She's in the Bannered Mare."

"You found her?" the man asked, surprised. "We just told you about her!"

"Well see," Mikael started, "there was this one woman who seemed a little off at the inn, and when you mentioned that, we were almost certain, so we talked to her and sure enough it was her."

"Hmm, I see," the dark skinned man mused. "We can't go in there and get her. We'll need you to bring her out to the stables. We'll take it from there."

"You got it."

* * *

Saadia sat in her room, thinking to herself how she had managed to snake those two Bretons into helping her rather handily. They seemed like competent fighters. With any luck, they'll be able to take out Kematu and she'll be-

"Hey, we might have a problem."

The spy jumped in her seat, drawing her knife and facing the voice. It was the taller of the two bretons, in his torn up clothing, and he looked concerned.

"What? What is it?" Saadia asked, her heart quickening.

"Something tipped off the Redguards. They know you're here, and they're coming for you." The man looked over his shoulder nervously, as if expecting them to jump out at any moment. "We saw them paying off the gate guards. My brother is trying to distract them while I get you out."

The woman's eyes bulged. Her plans, destroyed! The Dominion would not be pleased. In the meantime, she had to deal with the Alik'r, and keep up her facade."But where will I go? I can't keep running forever!" she exclaimed, her tone frustrated and desperate.

"There's a horse waiting for you at the stables. We'll get you out of here."

"After all this, I have to pick up and leave again?" She sighed. "If this is really the only way, then I trust you. Let's get going." Let them think she has given them her trust, then they will be more inclined to help. As she gathered her belongings, she made a mental note to make sure these two were arrested by the Thalmor. Can't have her identity being revealed to anyone.

They ran out the front gate, the tall one whipping his head around, looking for the Alik'r, no doubt. He was being very obvious about it, though. The fool would only draw attention if he wasn't careful. In short order, they reached the stables and saw a guard.

"Hey, wait a minute," the guard said. The spy froze in her tracks, as did the Breton. She slowly reached for her dagger.

But the guard turned to the wizard, not her. "By Ysmir, it's you. You killed a dragon, didn't you? Nice work."

Her tall escort smiled and bowed slightly. "Thank you. Stay safe."

The guard nodded and walked off. Saadia turned to her companion.

"You?" She asked, shocked. "You killed a dragon?"

The breton grinned at her, but there was something off about it, she thought. "Well, yeah, I killed A dragon, and my twin killed the other."

Saadia was stunned. "Both of you killed dragons?"

"Yep. Matter of fact, we're both Dragonborn," the man continued, still grinning, and unnerving her. He had no more of the anxiety he displayed earlier.

She opened her mouth to speak more, but he interrupted. "No wait, let me guess what your next question is." He leaned forward. "Your next question is, 'What made me think it would be a good idea to try to lie to the Dragonborns?'"

"Indeed, my fair lady. You didn't think you could manipulate people forever, did you?" A more familiar accented voice intoned. "Your luck had to run out sometime." She spun to see a redguard man. Before she could react, her body was hit with a paralyzing spell.

"Saadia" fell backwards, but she could not even grunt in pain, her body was restricted so. She could still see the two men, and indeed a third, as the shorter Breton stepped over to her body and knelt down next to her. "Here's a tip, my little spy; don't fuck with people much smarter than you." He gave her a condescending pat on the head.

The spy seethed and longed to bite the man's fingers. She had been played! The bastards!

"Now we will take this traitor back to Hammerfell, where she will pay for her crimes," she saw the Redguard man explain to the tall one.

"Glad we could help out," the Breton said smugly.

"We thank you for your help. Now, I believe I owe you a portion of the reward?" He handed a medium sized purse of gold to the two. "Spend it wisely, and well done for not getting fooled by a pretty face." Kematu walked over to her. "And now to deal with you."

She heard the sound of a horse and wheels moving. Her captor lifted her up and placed her in the back of a carriage, next to two other Alik'r Warriors. Soon, the carriage was off. The last she saw of the two Bretons as her ride turned away was them waving and grinning at her.

* * *

"Well, glad we knocked that quest out quickly." Aramen stretched while they walked back to Dragonsreach, feeling the pain of his overworked muscles. "Nice acting."

"Cheers, yeah." Mikael plucked at his shredded robes. "I'll need a replacement set. Maybe Jarl Balgruuf will convince Farengar to give me a discount on his stuff. I've got a few good rings here to disenchant, but some robes would not go amiss."

The two strolled along, eventually coming to the door of Dragonsreach and sauntered on in, slight smirks on their faces as they approached the Jarl.

"Good, you're finally here. The Jarl's been waiting for you," Proventus said meaningfully.

"...You heard the summons, what else could it mean?" The Jarl spoke to Hrongar. "The Greybeards…" He then noticed the twins. "So what happened at the watchtower? Was the dragon there?"

"A single dragon? No." The Nord looked relieved for a moment before Aramen continued. "There were two."

Eyes went wide for all in earshot as they digested that fact. The twins enjoyed the moment before Mikael piped up. "Fret not, Jarl Balgruuf. We told you we would exterminate whatever was there, and we did. Irileth was invaluable as well. Though, your watchtower is in shambles and a good many men and women died to bring down the beasts."

The Jarl relaxed slightly in his chair. "I knew I could count on Irileth. A proper burial will be done for all of them. It takes true valor to stand against such a beast and give your life."

"Actually, sir," Aramen cut in, "that was part of what we wanted to talk about."

"You see, we've gathered parts of the dead dragons here." The twins shrugged off their packs and removed the scales and bones they had carried with them as Mikael elaborated. "They are incredibly durable and great trophies."

"So, you wish to have them made into armor and weapons, then?" Jarl Balgruuf preempted. "I'll send for the finest smiths at once."

Mikael waved his hand. "No, thank you, Jarl, we could take care of that ourselves. Regardless, that's not what these are for."

Proventus, very confused and slightly irritated, chose this moment to inquire. "Then what is your point?"

Aramen gave him a glare, causing the man to look away. "These are for the families of the soldiers who died, Jarl."

"As we said, they are very durable and make great trophies. It is only fitting that the families of those who died to defeat the Dragons took them, as something to remember them by; an heirloom of sorts. Let them decide what to do with it."

The crackling of the fire was the only sound heard in the great hall for a long minute. Even nearby guards and servants stared at the two. Jarl Balgruuf stood slowly and walked to the twins, then put a hand on each of their shoulders.

"Truly, I could not have asked for better men to aid Whiterun. You have my thanks, Aramen and Mikael. I promise that these will be given to the families of those who fell in battle." He motioned for a few guards to come pick them up, and took them away to another room. The Jarl returned to his chair and slumped once more. "But, I feel there is something more to this."

"Turns out," Aramen began, grinning with his twin brother, "we're Dragonborn."

"We absorbed the souls of the dragons when we defeated them, causing them to wither away to mostly bone and some scales," Mikael finished.

"So it's true," The Jarl said in wonder. "The Greybeards really were summoning you."

"Ah, yes. The masters of the Way of the Voice, living in seclusion at the Throat of the World. I imagine they would want to speak with us regarding our recent discovery," Aramen listed off.

"They likely wish to teach us how to use the power of the Thu'um, give us guidance, or something of that sort." Mikael shrugged.

"Yes," Jarl Balgruuf agreed, slightly confused at their tone. "You'd better get up to High Hrothgar Immediately. There's no refusing the summons of the Greybeards. It's a tremendous honor." His eyes shifted, looking off into the distance. "I envy you. To climb the 7,000 steps again… High Hrothgar is a very peaceful place. Very… disconnected from the troubles of this world. I wonder if the Greybeards even notice what's going on down here."

The Jarl shook himself out of his reverie. "You've done a great service to this city, Dragonborns. By my right as Jarl, I name you both Thanes of Whiterun. It's the greatest honor that's within my ability to grant. I assign you Lydia as a personal Housecarl." He glanced at the axe on his waist. "I'd grant you this weapon to serve as a badge for your office, but I've only the one."

"That's fine, Jarl," Mikael told him. "Though, I wouldn't say 'no' to some fresh robes, if Farengar has some."

Jarl Balgruuf nodded. "Farengar!" He called.

The older wizard trotted into the room. "Yes, Jarl?"

"Bring me new robes for one of our new Thanes," He said, gesturing to Mikael.

"At once."

"I'll also inform the guards of your new titles. Wouldn't want them to think you're part of the common rabble, now would we?" The Jarl smiled. "We are honored to have you two as Thanes of our city, Dragonborns."

"The honor is ours, Jarl," Mikael said cordially. "I know you have a city to defend, but one last matter. The skeletons of the dragons…"

* * *

The Twins walked down the steps several minutes later, having finished plans with the Jarl. Mikael adjusted his new pair of robes. They had a more official look to them, colored yellow with white trim, the emblem of Whiterun placed on the front. They were enchanted with moderate magicka regeneration and Restoration cost. Mikael approved, though he was worried about scuffing it up too much, so he planned to get a simpler robe before they left.

They descended the stairs and spotted a certain Nord woman with long brown hair, decked in steel armor and a steel sword on her waist. She had a patient expression, but her eyes snapped to the two Bretons as they descended and stepped towards her.

"The Jarl has appointed me to be your housecarl. It's an honor to serve you. I am Lydia." Lydia bowed to each in turn.

"No need to bow, Lydia." The twins both extended hands. "I am Aramen Viator, and this is my twin, Mikael." Even Lydia could not keep the look from her face. "Yes, we get that alot. We look forward to working with you."

Lydia hesitated for a moment, then shook their hands. "As a housecarl, I will defend you and all you own with my life. Do not hesitate to ask anything of me."

The Twins looked at each other and chuckled. "We don't require any noble sacrifices at the moment," Mikael said. "However, we do have something very important to take care of. I'm sure you heard that we are both Dragonborn, yes?" Lydia nodded. "The Greybeards have summoned for us to High Hrothgar. We require your assistance on this matter."

"Tell me what you require, Thane," She replied immediately.

"We need…"

* * *

Arngeir sat in the great room of High Hrothgar. It had been one day since they had felt the presence of a Dragonborn announced to the world. They had felt the echoes in the whispers of the Words, for a short time, and then they heard the true call of a Dragonborn.

He had no doubt that such a timely arrival of a Dovahkiin was tied to the reappearance of Alduin, the World-Eater. Both returns had been prophesied, and he felt the merest portions of fear and hope, as well as joy to be able to teach a Dovahkiin. Not since Tiber Septim himself had High Hrothgar been graced with their presence. The other masters were likely thinking the same.

Arngeir stood up slowly, his old bones creaking and clicking in protest. He walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out some bread and cheese to eat. A modest meal, not that they could be afforded much else. The townspeople below were generous to brave the perils of the mountain to drop off meager supplies for no reward. For that, the masters were thankful.

He could remember a time when he would have had more lavish meals, proper dining at larger tables in his youth. So meaningless those times seemed, how ignorant he had been. When he came seeking knowledge of the Tongue, many years ago, he had done so to learn, to grow. With the tutelage of the former masters, as well as their leader, he was educated on the true meaning of Thu'um, and was showed a higher perspective on the world around him. When his masters passed, he swore to teach any who would come before them, willing to learn. For once though the Greybeards were mighty, now they are but five.

When Ulfric Stormcloak had come before them, wanting to learn the Thu'um, perhaps he had been too eager, too focused on the idea of training another to look carefully at the man, see his true intentions for the gift of the Tongue. He studied well, but questioned much regarding their philosophies, not understanding how they could, must, remain so detached from the rest of the world. Arngeir should have known that Ulfric had no intentions of becoming part of the Greybeards, he merely wished to use the Thu'um for his own ends.

Now, with the use of his Shout, Ulfric Stormcloak had slain the High King and thrown Skyrim into a civil war, just as the dragons were returning. A country divided could not face this threat and hope to survive. They had only hope in this new discovery, a soul that had spoken to them from the land far below High Hrothgar. Twice, no less.

A knock on the door echoed loudly through the hall. Arngeir rose and answered it, preparing to greet the new Dovahkiin.

In all his years of meditation, studying the Word, and isolation, Arngeir had thought he would be prepared for anything. Even the return of the Dragonborn and Alduin was not unthinkable to have happened in his life.

Which is why Arngeir was quite surprised when he saw a scrappy man in tattered clothes, shivering at the door.

"Uh, got a message to deliver. For the Greybeards?" The courier asked.

* * *

"I am still confused as to why you sent a letter rather than going yourself, my Thanes," Lydia commented. They were on the road once more, heading out northwords.

"Simple," Aramen informed her distractedly, busy casting minor magic with his hands.

* * *

 _Dear Greybeards,_  
 _Hey, we're going to be busy for a while. We'll drop by when we can._

 _-The Dragonborn Twins_

Arngeir stared incredulously at the letter in his hands.

* * *

"But what do you mean by 'busy'?" She asked.

Mikael glanced over his shoulder. "We have a lot of things to do before we can even think about talking to the Greybeards. Something this big? Once we get started, who knows the next time we'll get to take a break. There's so much to do!"

Aramen nodded. "My brother and I are not from Skyrim, you see. When we arrived and managed to look around, we noticed how lacking this land is. We intend to bring things from our culture here, expand the horizons of Skyrim."

"But of course, there are a great many interesting things here as well." Mikael blew some fire at the edge of the road, causing the stalking wolves to hop back, then leave. "The College of Winterhold, the Bard's College, the Companions, the Thieves Guild, the Dark Brotherhood… we had no such things from where we came. It's pretty bloody intriguing."

"We have a long ways to go before we're ready for those, though. We were not fighters or any such thing previously, but necessity dictated we learn. Skyrim is a very dangerous and violent place. We'll need to be well trained and prepared before we try anything like that."

Lydia nodded, trying to understand their logic. "So, you wish to grow stronger before taking on such challenges?"

Mikael tapped his nose. "Precisely. Which is why we're headed to this dungeon."

"Yes, you said it was called Ustengrav. Why this place?"

They turned away and grinned. "Oh, no particular reason…"

* * *

Arngeir turned from the door, a whisper with his Thu'um to the other masters to meet in the great hall. He had sent the courier away with some spare fur for a coat. They walked in slowly, puzzled to see no other person besides Arngeir. They Mumbled in confusion and asked for an answer.

Arngeir wordlessly extended the scrawled letter to the other three masters. They leaned in and read, and their usual expressionless masks became marred by a frown. To be so casually dismissed? Without even the decency to meet them in person? Without even giving their names?

The Greybeards regarded each other, thinking the same thing. They opened their mouths…

* * *

 ** _"DOVAHKIIN!"_** A great voice shouted from afar, full of anger.

Mikael, Aramen, and Lydia paused in their hike. The twins looked to each other, then burst out laughing.

* * *

 **XxXXxXXxXXxXXxXXxXXxX**

 **Just noticed that my line breaks, which I had entered in my google docs as "***" , do not show up in the copy/paste to posting a story, so there is nothing in the first 2 chapters where there should be line breaks. Same with Bold and Italics. Why? Good question! Who knows!**

 **Hey, thanks a bunch for reading so far, guys. I know Elder Scrolls fanfics don't get much attention, so I'm always happy to see more views. It's an uphill battle getting this one out there. And I'm ecstatic to see reviews. Seriously. After the 2 reviews on chapter 3 came out the same day it was released, I immediately started working on the next chapter with gusto. So please, leave reviews so I know that you're getting into the story, and at the risk of sound needy, show this story to a fanfic reading friend. Much appreciated.**

 **-Mikael**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 **Response for Anonybutt:**

 **Firstly, cheers for the well-thought out review. Hope you enjoy more of what we got coming. In regards to our characters knowing so much about the crafting systems, I'll point out that in the first chapter Aramen and Mikael do boost themselves up with such knowledge with their allotted points and that both chose crafting to max up specifically because "leveling" them normally would be a bitch. In the reality of the Skyrim world they don't get to use perk points or reach leveled numbers, it's all practice and cleverness and ideas. They chose their shortcut points for crafting and have to learn the other stuff the hard way.**

 **Anyways, here's the next chapter.**

* * *

The trio of adventurers hiked north, swinging by the Silent Moons Camp and clearing out the bandits. Mikael picked up the Lunar Forged weapons for future disenchantment. They both agreed that the enchantments given by the forge were somewhat interesting but not all that great, so they simply moved on.

"So, next is that camp east of here?" Mikael commented as he toyed with fireballs.

"Pardon, my Thane, but for what reason would you go there?" Lydia questioned.

Aramen smiled at her. "Well, Lydia, what can you tell me about the place?"

She paused for a moment, thinking. "I believe that place is called Halted Stream Camp. It's under the hold of Whiterun, and I believe it was a mine of some sort, though it has been out of use for some time, and bandits have taken over." Aramen motioned for her to continue. "That's… all I can think of."

"Don't you find it odd that bandits would be taking over a mine? They don't seem the laborer types." Mikael extinguished the fireballs.

"Maybe they just did it because it was convenient? The area around is host to many mammoths. Perhaps they desired a good camp for a hunting ground, since there are quite a few mammoths that travel this way. And it is fortified with walls." Lydia's eyes widened slightly. "They're poachers, then."

The twins shared a pleased look. "Well thought, Lydia." They didn't tell her that there was more to it than that, but she came up with part of the answer.

Lydia bowed. "My Thanes."

They spotted the fortified walls at a distance, noting the two sentries on the walls. "Alright," Mikael mused. "I have a plan. Lydia, Aramen, switch to ranged weapons and pick a sentry. Don't fire until it looks like they will."

The two nodded and Mikael snuck up to an unwatched section of wall, sliding along the side until he reached the gate. He knocked three times. From beyond the wall he heard commotion, and saw the sentries get in position. The gate opened a crack.

"Piss off, Breton, or we'll fill you full of arrows," the random Redguard bandit threatened.

Mikael looked at him with a beaming smile. "Pardon my intrusion, good sir, but have you a moment to talk about our Lord and Savior, Crassius Curio?" Mikael extended a book to the man.

"Eh?" The bandit took the book and read the cover. " _The Lusty Argonian Maid_ ". He then stared at the tall Breton, a snarl on his face. "Kill him!"

The twangs of a bow and a crossbow followed, but no injuries to the tall man. That's when the Redguard saw the two sentries topple over the walls. Mikael sighed. "Yes, I don't blame you. Really, that book is very poor quality. So little actual plot and awful sex scenes." And with his hands full, the bandit didn't have time to draw his weapon before the wizard punched him with a flaming fist and knocked him down, continuing to light him ablaze. Another bandit emerged from by the campfire, casting a ward. Mikael summoned a bound sword in his left hand and stuck him with lightning, but it was absorbed. The bandit lobbed an ice shard at him, which he dodged and then slashed out, ethereal blue cutting through the ward and flesh. He took a breath and flexed his right hand, feeling the pain.

"Still not fully healed?" Aramen called, trudging through the gate with Lydia.

"Yeah, looks like even with magic it'll take some time. Maybe a day or two." He glanced around and pointed to something on a table. "Mammoth snout. Looks like you were right, Lydia. Poaching." Lydia smiled.

They entered through the door to the mines, carefully avoiding the pressure plate, and spotted another bandit sitting at a table, drinking mead. Aramen shot him with his crossbow, and the man fell. Down further was a hallway that descended deeper.

"What is that stench?" Aramen asked, his face wrinkling.

"A dead animal, likely a mammoth they brought down to clean," Lydia considered.

"And it sounds like there's more than a few bandits down there." Mikael hummed. "I'll lay a few elemental traps, then we'll sit back at the mouth of the hallway and pick them off when they approach."

And so the traps were laid and the trio stood ready to snipe anything that came their way. "Alright, now to draw their attention…" Mikael summoned a medium sized fireball and lobbed it at a wall, causing a brief explosion.

"What was that?" They heard echo down the way, along with the sounds of weapons being drawn.

Once the bandits were in sight, Mikael and Aramen launched a combo Lightning Bolt down while Lydia shot an arrow. The poor sap in front didn't have time to scream before he was knocked backwards over the railing, blood gurgling from his throat. The three remaining bandits immediately ducked and switched to ranged, on shooting a fireball up to them. Mikael cast a ward to block it while the other two continued to shoot. Another bandit dropped from three arrows to the chest. The remaining chief and bandit charged up the tunnel, and the underling was promptly frozen and zapped silly by the traps, falling dead to the floor. The only survivor, the orc chief bandit, roared a battle cry and swung his axe at them. Lydia blocked with her bow and kicked the man in the stomach. With the momentary stun, she switched to her sword and stabbed at him. The chief backed up slightly, menacingly raising his axe for a deadly overhead swing… and was shocked when his axe caught on the arch of the tunnel, having backed up into the doorway. Lydia slashed him from shoulder to shoulder, not flinching as blood sprayed on her armor.

Mikael panted slightly, the many magic attacks having worn him out. "Bloody nice work, Lydia."

"It was my duty, Thane."

"And yeah, some serious mammoth work down here," Aramen called. He'd made his way down the hallway without being noticed.

A smelly mammoth corpse lay in the center of the room, surrounded by many skulls and tusks and snouts. A forge lay on the close wall, a tanning rack on the other, by another tunnel. Aramen observed this from the raised platform by the side, next to a chest. He chose to do so because the room was currently on fire.

"I see you disabled the fire traps," Mikael shouted from the other side of the room.

Aramen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and looted the place, too. Got some gold, a few potions, some book and a sword."

Mikael nodded, understanding the message. Aramen had retrieved Amren's Family Sword, as well as the spell tome of Transmute Mineral Ore, making this a successful trip.

The flames died down, and the three met back in the middle of the room, examining the burnt ground and stray flesh from the carcass.

"I think I feel a breeze coming from over there," Lydia said as she walked to the other tunnel.

"Wait, Lydia-!"

The Nord woman felt her step on something raised, then heard a _swoosh_ from behind her. She spun in an instant, seeing Mikael holding a back Mammoth skull with pointed tusks that would have swung down and impaled her.

"Mines always have a back exit or air passage to make sure the miners don't suffocate in case of a cave-in," Mikael explained as he gently lowered the skull to hang. "Now, observe."

Aramen picked up a discarded sword and walked over to the tunnel. He poked a bear trap, setting it off, which promptly snapped the cheap blade. Next, he reached up and untied a flaming lantern from its' position, and kicked the tripwire, watching the string that was attached to the lantern fall.

"And finally… " Aramen trailed off as they followed the tunnel to the end. There was an opening that led straight up, and the bottom was covered in wooden spikes. A dead High Elf lay impaled next to a poor deer. Aramen pulled the Elf off the spikes while Mikael set them all on fire, burning away the death pit.

"We'll bury him outside, whoever he is. Deserves better than the bandits," Mikael muttered as he stared at the flames. He turned to Lydia. "You are a good fighter, Lydia, no doubt about that. But we're adventurers, explorers. We delve dungeons for loot and excitement."

"And rule number 1 about dungeons, camps, fortresses, mines, or anything else?" Aramen explained. "Where there's treasure, there's traps; and where there's traps, there's treasure. The two are synonymous. The yin and yang of adventuring."

"Yin and yang?" Lydia asked, confused.

The twins glanced at each other and chuckled. Aramen sat down. "Where we came from, there were a people who believed that everything in the universe balances out. For every happy moment, there must be a sad one. For every death, a new birth. For every kindness, an evil. 'Yin' meaning bad, and 'Yang' meaning good." Aramen pulled out a piece of paper and drew a rough Yin Yang symbol. "One cannot exist without the other; they are inseparable, together always, but not the same." Aramen's gaze drifted, then he shook his head. "The point is, this will be a different sort of work for you, so keep a sharp eye out."

Lydia nodded. "Yes, my Thane. I will do my best to learn and be wary."

Thunder boomed above them, and they looked to see rain pouring in from the opening.

"Looks like we're camping here for tonight. Lydia, you take up by the table where the first guard was. You'll be able to hear anyone trying to sneak in." Mikael glanced at the dead mammoth. "Also, it probably doesn't smell as bad up there."

"As you wish."

* * *

Lydia settled in a few minutes later. The Twins waited an hour before they got up, lit a candle, and sat at the table.

"Here we are again," Mikael joked. "Good thing these bandits had some mead tucked away." He uncorked his bottle while Aramen did the same.

Aramen turned to his brother with a grin, "You know, I feel like Mr. Miyagi over here, dispensing some fucking ancient chinese wisdom." He paused to take a swig of mead before frowning. "It feels a bit odd to be doing that to someone who I'm pretty sure is older than me."

Mikael pondered a moment. "Lydia's age is never listed in the wiki. In fact, there's very little about her personal life. In the game, she's just a companion character who blithely follows commands and only gets some personality when she sounds slightly sarcastic. We should really get to know her."

"Her loyalty was certainly portrayed accurately in game" Another gulp punctuating the sentence. "People like that are hard to come by. If we are making any plans for the future, grande or otherwise, it would be wise to have people like that with us. Just need her to think more than her position normally demands." He finished with a grin.

"The other followers seem loyal enough once you do their respective quest," Mikael noted, taking a drink. "Some are also good thinkers. Mjoll and Uthgerd seem like just plain fighters. Uthgerd in particular doesn't seem the critical thinking type, but it takes all kinds. We'll be rounding up quite a posse by the beginning of our thing, I'll bet."

"We'll find a place for all who want one eventually." Aramen concluded. "But that will come later."

"Of course," Mikael agreed, before his face turned serious. "But speaking of wisdom… did you feel it, too?"

Aramen nodded. "When we absorbed the souls."

"It felt like… like I learned something, but I don't know what it was. Not _Fus_ , but just something else. I feel a little different."

"A bit more confident or something. More sure of myself," his brother added.

"I'm sure it was because we absorbed the dragon souls." Mikael took a long drink. "We absorbed their fucking _souls,_ dude. Their very being, their essence."

Aramen went to continue before pausing a moment. He took a breath before starting, "What if they affect us in other ways too? What if we start to act differently in other ways too? More aggressive or arrogant I mean."

"I guess we'll find out, but I'm not too worried. But we're going to be fighting who knows how many dragons, so we'll be absorbing a lot of souls. If it works like this, then think about how much knowledge we'll get. Hell, these things were centuries old before they were killed, brought back, then killed for realsies by us, they probably know a shit load of stuff," Mikael ranted. "We might start to view the world a little differently, but don't we already? A view from above, looking down at all the little people? In a way, Skyrim was a game to the dragons as well. I'm intrigued."

"That is sounding like dangerous thinking," Aramen admonished with a sigh, "But I guess you are mostly correct. It will have to be something we deal with when it comes."

The two remained silent for a few minutes. "I guess we should get some sleep, then. If we make good time, we can hit Ustengrav and get to Dawnstar by the end of the day, then head to Winterhold after," Mikael said.

Aramen nodded, they finished their drinks, and went to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, after they had buried the random elf and looted the corpses, the group moved north, towards Volunruud. A short and chilly walk later put them right at the front door. They slowly opened the door and snuck forward, pausing a moment to pick up the small journal and mentally acquire the "Silenced Tongues" quest.

"Okay, here's the plan," Aramen whispered. "Lydia, you go with Mikael off to the right. I'll go left. Let's try to find these ceremonial weapons." He thought for a moment. "Oh, yeah." Then he slammed his fist into the skull of the "dead" skeleton sitting in the chair next to them, causing it to collapse into a pile of bones. "Be on the lookout for draugr and the like, Lydia. Rule number 2 for adventuring; If you haven't killed it, it isn't dead. Always assume every suit of armor, every skeleton, corpse, painting, statue, and sometimes even chest is going to spring to life the moment you pass by and try to murder you."

Lydia looked confused, but nodded all the same. She and Mikael snuck off to the far right passage. Mikael looked back and winked, Aramen nodding in response. He unsheathed his greatsword and snuck carefully along the passage.  
XxX

Amaund Motierre was a very ambitious man, and he well knew it. For without ambition, how could one progress? How could one achieve the things they desired without the will and want to get it? It was even easier these days than it was hundreds of years ago. All he needed was a pile of gold and the ear of the right people.

Motierre contemplated this as he sat in the dingey side room of Volunruud, sipping his wine. He had prayed to the Dread Mistress, and expected them to be swift in sending an assassin his way. The thought of what he had to gain from it all made it worth the smell of mildew and cold interior.

What does it take to become an Emperor? Ambition.

Titus Mede II was not overly popular. After the signing of the White-Gold Concordat, he had lost face with many of his subjects. The Great War had left the Empire weakened, vulnerable, and the Emperor had to submit. Even as he smiled and urged peace, the citizens raged, but they too had to submit to the Elves. Thus, if he were to suddenly die, well… Motierre took another sip. The people would grieve and move on, as they always do.

The Motierre family had existed for generations. As one of the few surviving family members, Amaund had access to a seemingly unending bank of gold and other trinkets amassed over the centuries. Such things had little interest to him, except in their ability to buy others' loyalty and services. The Dark Brotherhood was one example. He had no doubt that his payment would be enough to satisfy whatever price they had. It was a gamble, he admitted to himself, for if the assassination failed and his amulet was found… he could be implicated in the murder. But he was confident they would succeed. One does not become a member of the Elder Council without some instinct.

Another example of being able to buy others. His family had secured a seat on the Council many generations ago. Truly the power behind the throne, they were the ones who made decisions and passed laws beyond the gaze of the Emperor. They had the ability to send armies, demand taxes, silence witnesses, and influence with who might sit the throne next. It was the sort of thing many men would kill for, to possess such power. For Amaund, it was not enough.

Motierre permitted himself a small grin. They were expensive, to be sure, but every man had their price. He had shaken hands, passed purses, and sweet talked most of the Council to his favor. His family was a long standing part of the Empire. He was well spoken and articulate, educated and intelligent. The people would love him, and the Elder Council would back him. The seat of the throne was close enough Motierre could reach out and touch it. The Thalmor would not care about the death of Titus. One puppet Emperor was as good as another. And truly, the man did not care about being such. He knew it was folly to cross the Elves, but being an Emperor was nonetheless powerful. All that stood in his way was Titus Mede II.

And hopefully, not for much longer.

The sound of metal scraping stone drew his attention back to the room. He turned, hearing it come from the hallway outside. Motierre sighed and reach for his wine bottle to fill his glass.

"Rexus, another draugr. Deal with it," he commanded lazily.

Rexus grunted softly and pulled out his sword, trudging out the door. Motierre merely waited as he heard the sound of flesh being parted. He took another sip before idly swirling his wine around the glass, pausing only to note the brevity of his guard's latest encounter. It would seem he's gotten quite used to fighting these rotting filth. Motierre looked up to request that Rexus do something about the smell only to be met with a familiar leather cap flying at his chest.

There, lying in his lap, was Rexus, or at least part of him. Wine and spit shot from his mouth, pooling in his lap amidst the blood now there. It took him several moments to tear his eyes away from the sight to see a young Breton man stroll into the room, bloody great sword over shoulder. His intruder seemed entirely too pleased with himself as he opened his mouth.

"Seems you boys got in over your heads." His sentence punctuated by a casual twist of his arm that brought the blade screaming towards him. Motierre had just enough time to open his mouth to spit out his usual poisoned words that got him out of most situations. But all that emerged was a gurgle, as his vision tumbled to the side, and all was black.

* * *

Aramen took a moment to observe his handiwork. A brief grunt of annoyance left his mouth when he saw his cut. The damned snake threw his aim off when he opened his mouth. Almost made things unnecessarily messy.

"Well," he said with a shrug of his shoulders, "Nothing for it now."

He set aside his blade atop the table Motierre had been drinking from before setting about looting the bodies. He pocketed the Elder Council amulet off the bodyguard's corpse. A couple bottles of wine, some shiny gems, and a sack of coins quickly joined it from the more pompously dressed body in the room. The whole while the chamber was filled with a jaunty hum and the occasional joyful murmur of loot.

Special attention was paid to the letter gathered off the recently deceased. It was placed in a specially sealed scroll tube for later, along with the amulet.

"And that's that. Sorry I couldn't stay long, gentlemen. You've been exemplary hosts." Aramen gave a bow to the corpses before stepping out of the room. A torch flew over his shoulder, landing on the body now soaked in wine before the heavy wooden doors shut with finality.

* * *

Lydia and Mikael turned the corner and found the room of the first weapon, the Ceremonial sword. The Breton turned to his companion. "Lydia, do you think we should just walk in there?

Lydia's mouth opened to say yes, but she closed it immediately. _He wouldn't have asked if was okay. There must be a trap of some kind,_ she thought, looking around the room. The only thing she saw were two coffins. Closed coffins. They had been fighting Draugr already, perhaps there were more, lying in wait?

"No, my Thane. I believe those two coffins hold more Draugr, and will attack once we enter," she explained. Mikael's grin told her she had answered right.

"Well spotted. Just one other thing…" Mikael pointed behind her. Lydia spun around to see another Draugr standing against the wall, seemingly inanimate. Lydia stabbed it without hesitation, though briefly embarrassed to have missed something so close.

"Chin up, darling, it comes with practice." Mikael set some elemental traps out, then stepped into the room.

* * *

Shortly thereafter, Mikael and Lydia returned to the main chamber where they found Aramen.

"We got the sword," Mikael said, gesturing to his pack. "Any luck with the axe?"

Aramen shrugged "No, nothing much down my way. There's still this other passage to take, though." The shorter bretoned glanced that way. "But I got a bad feeling about it."

Lydia tensed slightly, but Mikael simply sighed. "Yeah, I figured. Let's move."

* * *

"FUCKING COCKSUCKER!" Mikael screamed out as he healed his leg.

The fight against the Draugr Deathlord had been going well. With Lydia's assistance and foreknowledge of the attack, it was considerably easier than the Draugr boss of Bleak Falls Barrow. That, was, until, one of the spare Draugr got in a lucky hit and knocked him sideways, right onto on of the spike traps. Lydia and Aramen held out and killed them all, luckily. Now Mikael suffered while he waited for the magic to take effect.

"First fucking thing…" he grunted out while channeling his spell, "…we make when we get a decent alchemist… is anesthesia. Magicka or not, this shit hurts. My wrist is almost healed up, but still."

"I'm so sorry, my Thane." Lydia currently stood with her head bowed, face shameful. "I should have protected you from that other monster. If I had only killed it sooner, it would not-"

"Oh, pull your head back up, Lydia, it's not your fault." Aramen scoffed next to her. "Both of us saw the traps and should have been more careful. And we _know_ that you should take out the ads before you dogpile the boss."

Mikael's breathing eased as his leg's flesh sewed back together. "Yeah, it was a simple mistake. Shit happens. We're all alive and in one piece, so no worries." He saw the look on her face had not changed much. "If you want to help, though, grab the axe and the sword. We'll need those." Mikael pulled the sword off his back and handed it to her. Lydia took the sword and went to the wall to retrieve the axe. Aramen grabbed Mikael's hand and hoisted him to his feet.

"You took care of everything?" Mikael whispered very quietly.

"Everything accounted for."

"Did you-"

"Yeah, I said 'Seems you boys got in over your heads' right before I killed him."

"Nice." They quietly fist bumped.

* * *

They stepped through the door. There, sitting on the throne, was the ghostly apparition of Kvenel the Tongue. Around him stood two other major Draugr enemies.

"Okay, here's the plan," Mikael eyed the enemies. "Since you got to be the distraction with the Dragons, I'll be distraction this time. I'll hold off Kvenel until you guys get done with the other two."

"Should I not be the distraction, my Thane? Your leg…" Lydia eyed the tear in Mikael's robes where the injury was.

"It's healed now. Besides, Kvenel is a ghost. Magicka will be particularly effective against him. Just don't keep me waiting too long." Mikael looked at Aramen. "Let's try to blast them off their feet as an opening move."

The twins jumped boldly into the center of the room. "Surprise, motherfuckers! _FUS!_ " they Shouted, casting a combined fire and lightning spell. All together, it blasted back the inferior Draugr while Kvenel stood from his throne. "Watch for that Shout!"

" _IIZ SLEN NUS!_ " The twins threw themselves and Lydia to the side, the Ice Form Shout rolling past them. Mikael recovered quickly and ran forward, blasting lightning from his fingertips. "Come get some, Evel Knievel!"

"Wasn't his name Kvenel?" Lydia asked aloud.

"Ask later, kill now!" Aramen hopped over to the fallen Draugr and started chopping furiously. Lydia sprinted forwards to kill the other, only to have an ice shard slam against her shield. The undead creature still had some magic to cast, it seemed. She continued running and bashed her shield against the monster, knocking it back down as it tried to rise. Pinned, the Draugr tried to push her off, but Lydia refused to budge. She trapped its' right arm under her shield and slashed away at the head and neck of the creature. Lydia tanked the blows to her side and head while the Draugr's flails weakened, and she was glad to see the undead go limp under her (A thought she should be most glad the twins could not hear). Lydia glanced over at Aramen, sweaty and healing his few cuts.

"Hey, a little help over here!" Mikael called, barely dodging the spectral sword of Kvenel while he drank a Magicka potion.

Aramen sheathed his broadsword and his hands danced with flames, unleashing a gout towards the ghost. Mikael leaped out of the way, rolling to a crouch and casting his own lightning. Kvenel bellowed, trying to advance, but finally dropping to one knee, then dissipating into ectoplasm.

"Lydia, please loot the body. Might find the real sword and axe, eh?" Mikael suggested.

Around the bend, the twins encountered the Word Wall. Stepping forward, they felt the knowledge of the word pass through them, so quietly. _Aura Whisper_ , they thought to themselves.

"Another Word learned, some shiny new weapons, and a good amount of loot to sell." Aramen turned to Lydia. "What do you think of your first Dungeon crawl?"

Lydia sheathed her weapon. "I think… I still have much to learn, Thanes."

Mikael smiled at her. "The day you think you know everything is the day you are killed for your arrogance. There is always something to be learned, for as long as you live. And even after."

* * *

The party ventured east, going around the large mountain to get to Ustengrav. It was already getting dark, but they wanted to get their task done as soon as possible, so they pushed on. They passed Wolf Outcrop, taking care to avoid the giant and wolves that had been skirmishing there. A little to the north sat Fort Dunstad. The twins deliberated for a bit, before deciding that they may as well just sneak around it for now. They could always come back and clear out the bandits some other time. Past the fort, they headed west and were ambushed by a Boethiah Cultist. Or at least, he attempted to ambush them before promptly being stabbed and roasted. They pocketed the book he carried and pressed onwards.

The twins opted to avoid some of the other dungeons around the area, though they did mark the locations on their own maps, such as Mzinchaleft, for later. They had another dungeon to get through by the end of the day and had no desire to bog down more. On their path to Ustengrav, however, they faced a problem.

"There's a Stormcloak outpost near here." Mikael explained to Lydia while they walked. "Heard the Jarl talking about it. I don't know how friendly they'll be towards outsiders."

"Should we simply sneak around them?" Lydia asked.

"No, because if we look like we're actively trying to avoid them, they might think us to be spies." Aramen rubbed his face. "Let's just walk past them. If we get stopped, we'll deal with it."

They hiked closer and closer to the encampment, hearing the sounds of men and women going about their day; eating food, working on armor, cracking jokes and the like. As they passed by the north side, the camp came into view, campfire light flickering and illuminating faces. Immediately, they heard a cry of "Halt!" as two sentries ran towards them with weapons drawn. Lydia's hand reached for her own sword, but Aramen shook his head at her.

The Stormcloaks, one male and one female, approached cautiously. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Greetings, strangers," Mikael started with a smile. He put one hand over his heart and gave a small bow. "I am Mikael Viator, and this is my twin brother; Aramen Viator." The soldiers looked back and forth between them. "Yes, we get that a lot. And this our companion, Lydia." Lydia nodded. "We are currently on our way towards a place known as Ustengrav. It is a ruin, or so I've been told, and is around here. I don't suppose you could point us in the right direction?"

The Stormcloaks seemed to be taken aback. They lowered their weapons. The female said. "There… are a few ruins to the west. I would not go there if I were you. They say there are skeletons and Draugr inside such places."

"We're not worried about that," Aramen replied. He pulled out an ancient battleaxe from his pack. The two Nords tensed, but Aramen simply dropped it head-first into the snow, the handle sticking up. "Thank you for the directions. Please, take this as a gift." With that, the party turned and moved onwards, leaving the two perplexed Stormcloaks behind.

They found Ustengrav about an hour later, and cleared out the few bandits by the door. The twins nodded to one another and turned to face their companion. "Lydia, we have a request for you."

She straightened immediately. "Anything, my Thanes."

"We need you to stay out here and guard the entrance. There's no telling if these bandits have any friends that might be coming back. We can handle ourselves in there." Mikael dug in his pack for a moment. "Here, a few healing potions just in case."

Lydia hesitated. She did not want to let them enter alone, but they had a point. "Of course. I will stand ready and be watchful for all who approach."

"Thank you." The twins started descending the steps, pausing at the door. "Oh, and Lydia?"

"Yes, Thane?"

"If we're not back in ten minutes…" Lydia held her breath. "Just wait longer."

They closed the door behind them, their laughter muted by the ancient walls.

* * *

Soon after the twins had left, Lydia set about the task of clearing out the corpses of the bandits. While somewhat distasteful, she understood the purpose of taking the possessions of the dead. It would do them no good in the afterlife, nor did bandits such as them deserve her pity. So it was that she took anything of value from them, then piled them together and lit them with a torch, as was her standing order with corpses. She remembered Aramen's instructions, "If they sprang back to life because of some necromancer, would you rather be fighting a corpse with armor, weapons, muscles, skin, organs, and something left for a brain? Or would you rather fight a skeleton? Burn it all with fire!" He had maniacally laughed after that line, joined by his twin.

About an hour later, Lydia heard the door open below her. She turned to see the twins walking out, grinning like they had just found the most delicious barrel of mead. "Honor to you, my Thanes. I trust your expedition went well?"

"Oh, in time, I'm sure we will see the fruits of our labor," Aramen commented vaguely. He shivered slightly. "It's very late. We'll camp here for the night and head out in the afternoon, or whenever we wake up, really." They all pulled out bedrolls and set up at the entrance, allowing the sounds of nature to send them off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Mikael awoke first, stretching his arms out and rubbing his eyes. He noted that it must be a little before noon, judging by the sun. He nudged his brother awake, then got dressed and started packing up his kit.

"This damn country is a lot bigger in real life than in the game," Aramen commented quietly while donning his armor. "You could walk from one end to the other in 2 days there, faster if you were sprinting or had some speed boosts."

Mikael shrugged on his robes. "I know, right? We've got a long walk ahead of us to get to Dawnstar, that's for bloody sure. Go grab some wood real quick, we'll make a little campfire."

Lydia woke a few minutes later to the smell of cooked meat, seeing the twins already up and about, both poised over the campfire. Mikael noticed her and extended a plate. "Cooked skeever meat with garlic and snowberry jam. Tell me what you think."

The housecarl picked up the silverware and cut off a piece, chewing thoughtfully. "It is better than I expected, my Thane. Quite enjoyable."

He chucked. "Yeah, skeever meat isn't the greatest, so I thought I'd give it a little somethin' to spice it up. I'm no Gourmet, but I try." The taller Breton slapped his thigh, standing up. "As soon as you're done and geared up, we'll head out. We're shooting for Dawnstar and won't stop 'til we hit it."

* * *

The party ventured east, bending southward to avoid the Imperial camp they knew was along the way. The temperature was rapidly dropping as dusk approached, enough to the point where the twins resorted to channeling minor amounts of fire around them to keep warm, having given their spare linens to Lydia, who had protested but reluctantly agreed after seeing their solution. They stumbled into Dawnstar at about 9:00pm and came to the Windpeak Inn. Entering from the cold, they spotted the Dark Elf priest surrounded by women, talking.

"Irgnir, get a hold of yourself. They're just dreams. Please tell her, Erandur," one woman (whose name they remembered as Fruki) implored.

Erandur nodded. "Listen to your friend. Fruki. They are just dreams, my dear. I assure you that it is quite normal."

Irgnir did not seem convinced. "It's the same dream over and over again. You think that's normal? It's evil, I tell you!"

Fruki turned back the to priest. "Erandur, she has a point. You keep telling us no harm will come from these dreams, but they must be an omen."

"Give him a chance to speak," the bartender Thoring spoke. "He's trying to help us."

"Everyone, please, I'm doing what I can to end these nightmares. In the meantime, all I ask is you remain strong and put your trust in Lady Mara." Erandur's voice was calm enough, but the twins could see the tension in his shoulders.

Irgnir took a deep breath. "I- I will, thank you."

As the crowd dispersed, Mikael walked up to Thoring. "Good evening, sir. Three rooms for the night, if you please." Mikael handed over 30 septims.

"Of course, travellers," the man replied and pointed to their rooms.

Lydia turned to the twins. "Is it wise to sleep in such a place if there are unnatural nightmares, my Thanes?"

Aramen shook his head. "Nah, heard them mention that it only affects the people who live here; travelling yahoos like us will be fine." He yawned. "Besides, I'm dog tired as it is. Can't imagine trying to press on tonight, 'specially how the weather is." The shorter Breton glanced at his taller brother, turned and entered his room, closing the door behind him. They could hear the klunks of armor being tossed to the ground.

Mikael nodded. "I wouldn't worry, Lyd. Catch some sleep, we'll be heading out in the morning." He of course meant himself and Aramen, as they planned on taking care of Vaermina while they were here, letting Lydia take a day off.

"Very well, my Thane. Good night." Lydia walked away, seemingly not bothered by the nickname. Mikael turned in shortly after that.

* * *

 _Black. Everything was black. The slick stone under his feet, the water that boiled and churned through the rocks, the clouds, the sky in every direction. He reached for a weapon, only to come up empty. He was in nothing but his undergarments. He shook his head, trying to clear the fogginess, but it was as if a great weight had settled over his mind. Taking one step forward, the ground shifted underneath him, making a hole filled with the black water. He couldn't catch himself in time, and so plunged straight in. It swallowed him up completely, pulling him downwards. He screamed, the pain from the boiling water and the tug at his ankle like swords to his skin. Bubbles flooded out from his mouth, and he tasted the putrid, oily water. He would have vomited if he could only breathe. He scrabbled at the walls, peeling skin off his fingertips, clawing wildly for a handhold. But nothing was there to grab, it was slick as wet ice. His vision grew darker than the water that surrounded him…_

 _The Breton dropped to his knees, choking on air. After a moment, he glanced up. He was back at the surface of the black planet, right where he had started. His lungs ached, his eyes stung. But he needed to move. If he could get moving, he could find something safer. Anything was better than being stuck here._

 _He shuffled this time, feet dragging along the uneven ground, keeping his balance. The water bubbled and splashed, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out at its' touch. In a few minutes, he had shuffled maybe one hundred feet from where he had started, or so he guessed. The whole world around him was hard to distinguish. He took a shaky breath and steadied himself before pressing on, but cried out as something stabbed his arm._

 _Spinning his head around, he saw his left arm impaled by a thick black spike, jagged and rough, with no apparent origin. Another stab, this time his left leg. He fell face-first into the ground. He screamed as a spike pierced through his stomach, coughing up blood. Once more, the ground under him shifted, revealing a hole just big enough for him to see down. Movement caught his eye, and a black spike came hurtling from the underground, straight between his eyes._

 _He jumped backwards, his limbs now freed. Back where he began again. He grasped at his head, trying to ease the pain behind his eyes. Moving was death. Can't move. Have to stay here and think of a plan. The wind picked up around him, but did not blow from one side to the other. He could feel the wind pushing down on him, trying to bring him to his knees. He fought against the wind and pushed his head up to see the origin._

 _A black sphere. Larger than whatever it was he was stuck on. It was as if Secunda had been turned onyx and been brought down from the sky, and it descended straight downwards. He could only shriek over the roar of the wind as it fell directly on top of him._

 _When he rose this time, it was not on the hellscape, but rather he was suspended in the air, surrounded by nothingness. In the distance in front of him, he could see two glowing red orbs, as if crafted from blood. They eyed him like he was a strange new toy they didn't have the instructions for. He had little time to contemplate them, for it was at that point that his head exploded in agony._

 _He could feel whatever it was tearing apart his mind, peeling back layers of thought. Memories of his exploits over the past week came to him, unbidden. He remembered talking to the people in Riverwood, meeting Lydia for the first time, talking to the Stormcloaks, fighting the skeletons in Ustengrav, the wooden feel of the pantry door as he opened it for a midnight snack-_

 _The presence in his mind recoiled in surprise. In a moment of clarity, the Breton realized what it had stumbled on. He couldn't let whatever it was see more, no matter what. He steeled himself as the pain increased tenfold. The presence probed at every centimeter of his mind, trying to force its' way back in. He had to hold out. For however long it took. He had to-_

Ice water splashed him in the face, and Mikael leapt out of bed, rapidly summoning his sword. His eyes darted around manically, and his chest heaved. He could feel himself damp with the water and his own cold sweat. His eyes finally settled on Thoring, standing in the doorway with a bucket in his hands and a nasty bruise on his right cheek.

"By the Eight, man," he remarked. "I've never seen the nightmares hit anyone as hard as you two." He jerked his thumb to the adjacent room. "Your lady friend is doing the same to your partner. It's strange that you even got them, what with you being travellers." Thoring's eyes looked him over somewhat suspiciously.

Mikael stayed standing for a moment before collapsing onto a chair, sword disappearing as he did. "Thank you for waking me. Was the water really necessary?"

"Yeah, it was." Thoring pointed to his bruised cheek. "Tried to shake you, and this is what I got for my troubles."

The taller breton took a deep breath and concentrated. It took him several seconds longer than normal, but he was able to channel a healing hands spell towards the man, who looked surprised, then relieved as he gingerly touched his face. "Consider that an apology. And again, thank you." The innkeep nodded and exited.

Mikael took a few minutes to gather himself and walked out. Aramen emerged at the same time. They looked at each other. "You look like hell," Mikael said to him.

"Right back at you," Aramen replied. They slumped into a bench. "Nightmare?"

Mikael nodded gravely. "It was… hell. Black water, black stones-"

"Black sky and black clouds," Aramen interrupted. "Was killed. A couple times."

"And then those orbs… those eyes. I'd bet my magic it was Vaermina."

"I thought the nightmares wouldn't affect outsiders?"

"So did I. Fucking lucky us. Maybe it's because she could just _feel_ something off about us? So she decided to hit us with them and see what was up?"

"I hope not. Maybe she was just interested in the Dragonborns. Either way, it's bad."

"..."

"She looked through my head. She found…"

"...Yeah, me too."

"We have to take care of this immediately, Mikael. We can't risk her seeing any more. She didn't get much, but she got enough that she's interested."

"We'll find Erandur soon as we get some food." Mikael glanced around. "Say, where's Lydia anyway? I heard she woke you up."

"Told her to go into town and sell some of the excess stuff and pick up some supplies, and after that she could take the day to relax. Said we'd be taking a little walk out of town and wouldn't wander off too far." Aramen chuckled. "She was really not keen on it, but eventually agreed."

The twins ordered some breakfast, plowing through the food quickly, preparing for the day ahead. A few minutes later, Erandur walked in, looking weary and tired. No doubt a result of having to placate the townspeople once again. Mikael and Aramen got up and walked over to him.

"You must be Erandur, the priest of Mara," Mikael started. He bowed slightly. "I am Mikael, and this is my twin brother, Aramen."

"Greetings, Bretons," Erandur responded kindly. "What may I do for you?"

"It's more what we can do for each other, sir." Aramen rolled his shoulders, working out some stiffness. "These dreams. Vaermina. It must stop."

Erandur recoiled, before looking at the two with narrowed eyes. "How do you…" he caught a look at the sunken in eyes of both the Bretons. "You experienced the nightmares as well?"

"It seems the Dark Lady took an interest in us," Mikael said gravely. "We have to end this. Or we may not make it to next morning."

Erandur considered for a moment, then nodded. "I agree. I must end her terrible influence over these people before the damage becomes permanent."

"I assume you have a plan?"

"I need to return to the source of the problem, to Nightcaller Temple. Perhaps you'd be willing to assist in this regard?"

Aramen raised an eyebrow, staring at the man intently. Erandur got the unnerving sensation of being measured. "Redemption is a noble goal, Erandur. But remember that pride comes before the fall. Take care that your quest does not see you slain."

The Dark Elf's blood chilled. They knew, or at least guessed. But they still seemed willing to help. He was gladdened that they would not judge him for his past.

"Nightcaller Temple is but a short walk away. We must hurry." Erandur stood up straighter as he marched out the door of the inn, the twins in tow.

* * *

The hike up the mountain was not unpleasant in the morning sunshine. The trio dispatched the ice wraiths outside the front door before Erandur stopped and explained to them the dangers of the Miasma and the sleeping orcs and priests. They ventured inwards behind the hidden door to the inner temple. Erandur stepped before a window and looked downward.

"There is the source of Dawnstar's woes; the Skull of Corruption." He looked down in disgust and slight fear.

The twins could _feel_ the pull of the staff, hungering for them. Even from afar, they could see the horrid artifact in its' magical cage. The mere thought of it getting ahold of them renewed their resolve to stop this. To that end, they crept quietly to the sleeping orcs and slit their throats, pausing at the barrier. Mikael gave it a lightning bolt, and Aramen shot it with his crossbow. Neither penetrated.

"Seems we'll have to find another way around, unless you know how to breach the barrier?" Mikael looked to the Dark Elf.

Erandur nodded and sighed. "I suppose I can't hide it from you, though it seems you know already."

"You were a priest of Vaermina, no doubt." Aramen shrugged. "But you seem to be past that now. It actually helps us here. So, lead on. I'm sure you have a way through this."

The priest smiled, the first they had seen. "Indeed. Let's press on into the Library."

They entered into the library where more of the sleeping started to rise and fight one another. Too busy fighting, they did not notice the trio above them who swiftly executed those that remained.

Aramen walked over to a nearby book stand and picked up a tome with Vaermina of the front. "Erandur, what's this?"

His eyes went wide and Erandur snatched the book from his hands. "This is exactly what we are looking for! ' _Dreamstride_ '. It's an alchemical book. It has a recipe for a liquid known as 'Vaermina's Torpor'." It allows the drinker to traverse distances in dreams in the real world."

"Sounds impressive," Mikael commented. "But something tells me it's never been tested and we're going to be guinea pigs."

"Sadly, yes. As a sworn priest of Mara, the elixir will not work for me. Regardless, we should be able to locate a sample of the brew in the laboratory."

"One two three NOT IT!" Aramen shouted. The elf just looked at him while Mikael face palmed.

"Gods damn it."

* * *

" _The orcs have breached the inner sanctum, Brother Veren," spoke Thorek._

" _We must hold. We can't allow the Skull to fall into their hands."_

" _But… no more than a handful of us remain, brother."_

 _Veren's eyes steeled. "Then we have no choice. The Miasma must be released."_

" _The Miasma? But, brother…"_

" _We have no alternative. It's the will of Vaermina." Veren turned to me. "And what about you, Brother Casimir? Are you prepared to serve the will of Vaermina?"_

" _I've made my peace. I'm ready," I spoke solemnly._

" _Then it's decided. Brother Casimir, you must activate the barrier and release the Miasma. Let nothing stop you."_

 _I turned and ran swiftly. My brothers and sisters lay dying around me, precious few holding off the orcs that had invaded our sanctuary. Blood coated the walls and pooled on the floor. Blades flashed and lightning crashed in front of me, but I had one task set before me. One task that I must see done._

 _I finally reached it. Without a moment's hesitation, I reached forward and pulled down the chain…_

Mikael blinked and staggered, coming to his senses in front of a soul gem that maintained the barrier. He popped it out and pocketed it.

"It… it worked! Mara be praised!" Erandur looked relieved and stunned. "You vanished after drinking the Torpor and materialized on the other side. I have never seen anything quite like it."

Mikael himself was very intrigued by the potion and wished he could have spared a drop to study, but sadly the entire drought was needed for it to work."I'd be happy to describe it to you in detail sometime, Erandur, but we've got a Daedra to smite."

That seemed to refocus the man. "Indeed. The inner sanctum lies ahead. We must reach the Skull and put an end to Dawnstar's troubles. Lead on, my friend."

Through more halls and stairways they passed, often killing most slumbering enemies before they could awake, All three men seemed to grow more tired and uncomfortable the closer they came to the inner sanctum, the Skull's power permeating the walls and probing at them. Finally, they approached a wooden door and opened it to find the unholy display just meters in front of them up the stairs. As they moved closer, they heard footsteps.

Erandur held out his hand. "Wait…" he said, examining the approaching priests. His eyes widened as he stared at the two men. "Veren… Thorek… you're alive!"

Veren's face held nothing but hate for the Dark Elf. "No thanks to you, Casimir."

"I no longer use that name. I am Erandur, priest of Mara."

"You're a traitor," he spat. "You left us to die and then ran before the Miasma took you."

Erandur shuffled back slightly. "No. I… I was scared. I wasn't ready to sleep."

"Enough of your lies! I can't allow you to destroy the Skull, priest of Mara."

"Then you leave me no choice!" Erandur shouted.

Aramen and Mikael immediately sprung into action and buffeted Thorek with flames, overwhelming the man in moments. Erandur dodged the lightning that erupted from Veren's fingers and swung with his mace. Veren nimbly stepped backwards and launched an ice spike that the other deflected. Erandur raised one hand and it glowed brightly, blinding Veren. He erected a ward to defend himself, but the Dark Elf stepped around him and struck him in the back of the head, killing him instantly. The priest panted and sheathed his mace.

The twins walked over to Erandur, who was kneeling over the body of the deceased man. "I… knew Veren and Thorek. They were my friends." He clenched his fist on the robes of his former friend. "Is this punishment for my past? Is it Mara's will to torment me so?"

Erandur felt someone slap the back of his head, and he turned to face Mikael. "They tried to kill us. And if we died here, then everyone in Dawnstar would be doomed." He offered his hand.

The Dark Elf stared for a moment before a chuckle escaped his lips. "You have a unique way of seeing things, my friend." He grasped the hand and Mikael hauled him to his feet. "It's time. The Skull must be destroyed." As he had done when they first set forth, Erandur stood straight. "First, an incantation to remove the barrier."

As their companion set about his chant, the twins fought off a headache that they knew was not natural. It pressed down on their minds, making it hard to concentrate. They crutched themselves on each other for support.

" _He's deceiving you,"_ a voice rang out in their heads. " _When the ritual's complete, the Skull will be free and Erandur will turn on you."_ The voice turned more urgent. " _Quickly! Kill him now. Kill him and claim the Skull for your own! Vaermina commands you!"_

Aramen simply raised an eyebrow to his twin, "Does she honestly think anyone could possibly believe that?"

"After the mind fucking you tried on us, 'mina?" Mikael stared into the eyes of the skull. "We've got just one thing to say to you."

Erandur completed his chanting ritual and the staff stood idle before them. The Dark Elf was pulled back by the twins as they leapt forward, weapons in hand. Vaermina screeched out in fury as they swung and cut the Skull into three pieces that clatter to the floor, inert as firewood.

"In your dreams."

The pieces of the staff dissipated into nothingness, and the twins stepped back. Erandur had walked down to the bottom of the steps when they caught up to him.

"Forgive me if I don't appear relieved… this temple has taken its toll on me." Erandur rubbed his brow, looking very worn out.

Mikael put a hand on his shoulder. "You going to be alright, mate?"

"In time," Erandur said, "I believe I will. I constructed a meager shrine to Mara in the antechamber where we entered. My intention was to spend the rest of my years here, burying the past and praying for forgiveness. But instead, I wish to offer my services to you two. If you ever wish to journey with me, I'll be here."

* * *

It was lucky, they reflected as they walked out of the temple for the last time, that they had bought the low-level reanimation spell from Farengar in Whiterun. It was a simple matter of making all the corpses of the dead orcs and zealots march themselves up and out of the building and crumble to dust outside. Had they been required to haul corpses one at a time, they might have been at it for hours. As it stood, about an hour or so of spellcasting and looting left them quite satisfied at clearing the place out. Waving goodbye to Erandur, they trotted back down the mountain to Dawnstar.

They sold the excess of gear in bulk to the local shops and popped in to the White Hall to tell Jarl Skald that they took care of the nightmares. The old man seemed pleased, but hardly grateful. Miserable old git. After that, they returned to the Inn to find a bored housecarl finishing a meal. Upon seeing the twins enter, Lydia walked over.

"Ah, Lydia, good to see you. How was your day?" Aramen prompted before she could begin.

"Honor to you, my Thanes. I stopped by the blacksmith to maintain my weapons. After that, I grew bored, so I took a brief jog outside of town and stumbled onto some wolves. I killed them and brought them back to the inn. The innkeep was kind enough to give me a free meal for them," Lydia told them, seeming somewhat more relaxed than the other day. "And yourselves?"

Mikael shrugged. "Eh, just went up to the spooky abandoned temple on the hill overlooking the town and found it full of unconscious worshippers of Vaermina and some orcs."

"Turns out Vaermina had been causing the nightmares for the people," Aramen continued, "so we teamed up with the local priest to take her down. In the end, we shattered her Daedric artifact, the Skull of Shadows. Pissed her off quite a bit, I'd imagine."

Mikael clapped his hands together rather suddenly. "Right! Well, we're going to be leaving quite early in the morning. We'll be following the shoreline all the way to Winterhold. So let's get some dinner and relax for a bit before going to bed."

Lydia's mouth opened and closed as she tried to articulate words, but the two merely smiled and waved her off. "Don't worry, Lydia, it's all taken care of. We'll tell you some other time." Aramen patted her shoulder. "Now are you going to order or what?"

* * *

The twins awoke that morning with grins on their faces, something that Lydia did not fail to notice as they enjoyed a quiet breakfast.

"Did something happen last night, my Thanes? You both seem very cheerful."

"No, Lydia, nothing happened," Mikael informed her happily. "Which is precisely why we're so happy."

"No nightmares, no Daedra bitch trying to claw her way inside our skulls." Aramen took a bite out of his bread.

"Best sleep I've gotten since yesterday," the taller one stated agreeably. "Anywho, we'd best be setting off." They finished their meals, gave thanks to the innkeep, and left town.

On their way, they passed by a charred corpse of a woman (they knew to be Yisra) surrounded by smoldering ashes and a book entitled " _Flame Cloak_ " and one need not wonder what had transpired. They also discovered a shrine to Talos, which they paused at. They drew out two ancient Nord swords and laid them crossways against the altar and gave a moment of silence. They didn't know if the offerings to the Nirn gods did much, but if nothing else it was a worthwhile gesture. Couldn't hurt to show some humility when you know the Nine were real.

Finally, approaching dusk, they saw the buildings of Winterhold and trudged into the town. They ignored the angry mumblings of Ranmir as they approached Birna, the merchant woman down on her luck.

"Hello there," Mikael greeted warmly, placing one hand over his heart and giving a small bow. "We have just arrived in Winterhold and are looking for an inn for the night. Could you perhaps show us where one is?"

The woman turned to the newcomers, her eyes slightly wide at the sight of the very tall Breton in front of her. "It's back behind you, where my brother no doubt just walked off to." Birna looked annoyed and frustrated.

"Is he upset about something?" Aramen joined the conversation.

"It's just…" Birna sighed. "We didn't choose to set up shop here by choice. Options were in short supply. Ranmir and I grew up here and nearly any money I make, he drinks away. Without the coin to pack up and leave, I decided to take to trading."

"Do you not get much business here?" The twins were pleasantly surprised to see Lydia put forth her input.

Birna fixed her with an annoyed look. "I'm sure you've noticed Winterhold isn't exactly overflowing with people. So I'll sell whatever I can. If it's worth putting a price on, you can bet I'll do it." She rolled her shoulders. "I've been burned a few times, made a few bad deals, but mostly I come out on top."

"Bad deals? Such as?" Aramen prompted.

The trader's face scrunched up in remembrance. "Yeah, it was stupid of me. I shouldn't have believed the story and just refused the trade. But I didn't, and now I'm stuck with this worthless junk."

Aramen laughed. "One man's trash is another man's treasure, my good lady. What is it?"

"Some line about this claw thing and Yngol Barrow." Birna produced the Coral Claw. "He said it was worth more than its weight in gold if I took it back there. Something about placing it in Yngol's chamber, I don't know." She shook her head. "What was I thinking? Even if it were true, I'm not setting foot in some ancient tomb, filled with who knows what."

Mikael put a hand on her shoulder. Birna flinched, but did not pull away. "It was no lie, ma'am. I've seen a similar claw made of gold before, and heard many legends of similar items throughout Skyrim. Look," Mikael pointed to the symbols on the palm of the claw. "These markings match with a locking mechanism inside the tomb it was designed for. It's the only way short of digging straight through the mountain to get in certain areas. Such places are often the final resting places of powerful Draugr, and stashed with treasure."

The woman's eyes went wide once more. "Truly? It's that important?"

Mikael nodded and dropped his rucksack. Rifling through it, he produced a large coin purse, some wolf pelts, and a few healing potions. "The purse contains 600 septims, and these items as well. I will trade this for the claw, but you must promise me two things."

Birna immediately became guarded. "What do you want?"

"Number one; do not let your brother get his hands on this. It would be a shame for him to drink it away; the coins or the potions."

She managed a laugh at that. "Don't worry, I won't."

"And number two," Mikael looked her straight in the eyes, and the woman's mirth faded. "Please do not leave Winterhold. Not yet. I know you may be frustrated and want to escape, but trust me. Big changes are coming to Winterhold, and soon you will have more business than you know how to deal with." The young woman hung on his every word, so encapsulated by his gaze and speech. If she did not know any better, she would have suspected a magic spell. "It will require your patience, as this will not be immediate, but we have plans for this town, and you may be central, if you can handle it." Mikael's voice became gentle and kind, and a smile adorned his face. "Just don't give up hope, okay, Birna?"

The young trader could only nod dumbly as Aramen carefully took the claw from her hand and Mikael placed the gold in the other, leaving the other items neatly tucked at her feet. Mikael bowed once more and turned around, following his companions to the inn. Birna stood there for a good ten minutes, snow accumulating on her shoulders, before she gathered her new acquisitions and rushed back home. She wouldn't realize until later when she laid down to sleep that she had never given the man her name.

* * *

"Are you sure it was wise to buy the item for such a price, my Thane?" Lydia asked as they stepped into the inn. "You could have very well bought it for cheaper, since that woman did not know the value. And from what you told me, that was all the money you earned from clearing out the temple in Dawnstar."

Aramen chuckled. "I'm glad you asked. We have many ways to earn money, Lydia. And that woman needed it more dearly than we do. Besides; we may be aligned with the Thief Stone, but we believe in being honest and fair to decent folk." They spotted two men talking.

"...I'm sorry, could you describe the smell?" Nelacar asked the innkeep.

Dagur shuddered. "Like some horrible monster was turned inside out, and then exploded. What did you do?"

"It was a minor miscalculation," Nelacar said with a dismissing wave. "I've already corrected it for future experiments."

The innkeep rubbed his brow with frustration. "This," he said without looking up, "this is why people have a problem with your college, Nelacar."

The two walked away; Dagur back to the bar and Nelacar to his room. They followed after Delacar, talked about his independent magic studies, then bartered some spellbooks and soul gems. Pleased with their haul, they approached Haran to see about some rooms.

"Ranmir talk you into buying him a drink?" she asked. "That's gold wasted, friends."

"Is he a problem?" Aramen asked.

She snorted. "He owes this tavern enough coin to burn it down, build it back up, then burn it down again just for laughs. He's had some troubles in his life, but I can't have him drinking here without at least paying back some of the coin he owes."

"We'll talk to him," Mikael assured her. They turned around and spotted him in the back.

Ranmir saw the shadows of three people fall over him and sighed. "I'm just trying to have a quiet drink here, alright?"

"Look here, mate," Mikael said. "You've run up quite a tab. You need to pay back your debt."

The man turned with an angry face. "Who are you to say what I should do? I'll pay her back when I'm ready."

"Come on," Aramen replied. "You owe them gold. Are you a man with no honor to his name? You should pay."

Ranmir looked into his cup, at his reflection in the drink. He thought for a moment, and it made him sad. "You're right. What would my forefathers think if they knew I wasn't paying my debts? Tell Haran I'll bring her the gold I owe."

Mikael pat his shoulder and left him a cup of water he had grabbed, then returned to Haran. She thanked them and told them about Ranmir, then gave them some items as reward. They then ordered some rooms for the night and tucked in.

* * *

"We've got a big day ahead of us, Lydia. A very big day."

"You see, today is the day we join the College of Winterhold!"

Lydia looked surprised for a moment at their exuberance, then nodded. They were currently sitting at the bar, having breakfast.

"Why do you wish to join the College, my Thanes?"

Mikael grinned. "Magic is an incredibly complex art with limitless potential. However, it seems… limited, here. We've read about the different varieties of spells and such of Skyrim, and it is honestly both impressive and amusing. From what we can tell, there is very little development of new spells, new applications of magic, new… well, much of anything! It's like a few hundred years ago they found their comfort zone and just have been forgetting and re-discovering the same magic over and over again. Where we come from, magic had incredibly versatile uses that we want to see brought to life here. Imagine a spell that could stir the soil of the earth, something that could bring healthy and nutrient-filled soil to the surface for farmers to grow food out of."

Lydia's eyes grew wide as she contemplated the implications. "That would be… incredibly useful, my Thane. Such magic exists?"

"Well… no. Not yet." Mikael looked sheepish. "There's not a whole lot of magic that actually focuses on the ground or rocks here. But that's my point! With some proper studying and experimentation, we _could_ make something like that." Not that they didn't plan on showing some farming techniques to the country eventually anyway, but magic was still useful and cool for it.

"Which is why we're going to the College," Aramen put forth. "We need to be educated in how to better use magic. We're mere novices at it, just starting out. But we have great ideas. We need the skills so we can bring them to life."

The trio set out into the winter morning air and proceeded down the road to the entrance of the college, guarded over by Faralda.

"Cross the bridge at your own peril!" She stated grandly. "The way is dangerous, and the gate will not open. You shall not gain entry!"

"For what reason are we denied?" Aramen inquired. "We seek entrance to the College of Winterhold."

"We do not allow just anyone to enter the college. Before you may proceed, I shall require a test of magical ability. Prove you are worth teaching."

Mikael shrugged. "Sure, that's not a problem. We could-" and he was cut off by a terrifying " _ROOOOOOAAAAAAR!_ "

"Oh, fuck."

The twins turned to see a great silvery dragon fly low over the town, shrieking. They saw denizens scream and run for their homes and the inn, desperately seeking shelter from the flying beast.

"I believe a practical demonstration would be best!" Mikael yelled. He shrugged off his pack and lightning sparked off his body. Aramen did the same, drawing out his crossbow. Lydia drew her bow.

Faralda looked agape for a moment, before visibly swallowing. Her eyes steeled and she summoned fire to dance across her fingers. "I agree."

Aramen opened the show by sending a bolt at the fast approaching beast managing to land a hit on the enormous target it had just made of itself by swooping so low. While reloading, his show was joined by another from their trusted housecarl Lydia. Mikael contributed to the act by tossing a bolt of lightning that hit the bolt lodged in the dragon's stomach causing the wood of the bolt to burst, acting as a pseudo grenade.

The beast roared in fury as it finished its pass before coming around to unleash a breath of frost upon the people now fleeing towards the inn. Its mouth open wide as it roared, " _Fo Krah Diin_!"

Ice erupted forward shrouding the area in sub zero temperatures. The cold causing heavy clouds of fog to form. But the shape was oddly domed in nature. And the fog cleared to reveal a glimmering dome of magicka held aloft by the two brothers. Sweat coming down their brows in spite of the cold. From behind the shield Lydia launched her strike. Arrows lancing towards the dragon.

This time, however, her attack was joined by a bolt of lightning that illuminated the small town, causing a thunderous clap. Leaving arcs of electricity in its wake and a large scorch mark right on the side of the Dov. And at the other end of the trail stood the Archmage himself, perched on the stone archway above the steps. Savos Aren started charging another spell as his fellow mages spread out from the bridge to continue sending spells at their reptilian invader.

The twins, having read the wiki of the game many times over, knew that Savos Aren was only meant to know 8 spells, and only three of them Destruction based. But as they stood, staring at the Dark Elf as the skies tremored and lightning, fire, and ice surrounded him, they knew two things.

1\. This was real life, and so things that made no sense in the wiki did not apply here.

2\. Savos Aren was a magical badass, well deserving of his title as Arch-Mage.

Now aided by the college and with the surrounding guards moving in to aid in its defeat, the dragon stood no chance. Bolts and arrows and spells pelted the beast. Forcing the dragon from the skies and landing just on the outskirts of town. Aramen tossed aside his crossbow before pulling his greatsword loose from his side. He bellowed a challenging roar before charging the dragon. His foe's jaw opened wide in order to let loose another deadly cloud of frost, only to be struck in the throat by a brilliant ball of flame. The dovahkiin's blade carved deep into the neck of the now reeling dragon. As it pulled away from the strike with its head raised to sky issuing a silent scream that was drowned in the blood now pouring from its neck, one last arc of electricity stuck it down. The head smashing down into the ground, leaving a trail of smoke and surrounding skin turned to ash from the sheer power of the spell that laid it low.

A single breath passed before the now familiar golden glow enveloped the body burning away the majority of its flesh and blood, leaving behind only a pile of scales and an enormous skeleton laid out flat in the center of town, the glow itself having passed onto the breton dragonborn now panting at its base.

His twin came up and gave him a healing slap on the back. "You cheeky fucker, ganking the soul like that. I got dibs on the next one." He held out a hand.

"Well if you're too slow to grab it, don't bitch about it to me." He grabbed his brother's hand and was pulled to his feet. They turned to face the impressed, tired, and shocked faces of the congregated College professors. Mikael raised an eyebrow at Faralda.

"So, about that test…?"

 **A/N: As you may have guessed, this is pseudo-based off of a playthrough of Skyrim. So when I went up to Faralda in the game to gain entrance, a dragon really did appear and I killed it and I thought "Fuck it this would look great in the story" and so there you have it.**

 **Please do leave reviews, as each and every one is a nice reminder that people are enjoying the story, and it makes me work a dozen times harder to write the next chapter. As long as any criticism is, y'know, constructive.**

 **Cheers!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Who are you?" Savos Aren was the first to speak.

Mikael put his right hand over his chest and gave a slight bow, while his twin inclined his head. "My name is Mikael Viator, and this is my twin; Aramen Viator."

"You look nothing alike," Drevis put forth, still quite surprised at seeing the Dragonborn up close.

The twins smiled. "We get that alot. We are here because we desire to enter the College of Winterhold… Archmage Savos Aren."

"I see you've heard of me," the man responded. "For what reason do you wish entry?"

"Sir, we believe that magic is wonderful and interesting, and has many possibilities. We just need to understand it to better use it."

Mirabelle nodded. "A fine goal, indeed. Unraveling the mysteries of the Arcane is a constant effort by mages everywhere."

"And you're certainly no slouches in the realm of magic. That ward you erected, though brief, saved your lives and the lives of all the citizens inside the inn," Tolfdir threw in his two septims.

Colette 'hmphed' and crossed her arms. "And some people say Restoration is not an important field of magic, why I-"

"Thank you, Marence," The Archmage cut her off. "Well, I believe that you've more than proven your worth as students. Welcome to the College of Winterhold."

* * *

The Twins were in awe as they wandered up the stone path to the College. The tower stood tall, covered in snow and markings from experiments gone awry. The entire structure seemed to radiate magic; permeating the air and every cobblestone. It was like boiling a thousand Magicka potions in a giant pot and wafting the air towards them.

 _Note to self; try making soups with boiled potions instead of water,_ Mikael mused to himself.

All around them, power thrummed from the ancient brickwork, a legacy of bled-off magic from thousands of prospective mages come and gone. The greatest minds in Skyrim met here to experiment and invent new magic, to expand their knowledge of the world, to create potions and enchantments of great magnitude to better the lives of others.

 _And we will surpass all of them._

Lydia followed behind, quietly murmuring "I have never seen anything quite like that," glancing around in somewhat less of a touristy look. The Twins asked her to help them carry their things into their new dorm rooms, and to wait there for them. Tolfdir assured them that today's lesson would be brief, so she would not be kept there long. Mirabelle gave them the standard tour and directed them towards the Hall of Elements, where the other three students stood, looking nervous.

"What was that noise out there?" Onmund asked, seeing the twins enter with Tolfdir.

"Ah, yes," Tolfdir said, turning to the two Bretons. "These will be your fellow students. I asked them to stay here while we investigated the disturbance outside." He turned back to the students. "There was a dragon outside, one that these two had engaged in combat before our arrival. They made quite an impression."

Mikael and Aramen grinned and bowed slightly. "It was a good thing the College sent out their masters so quickly," Aramen stated. "I'd hate to think what kind of damage that dragon could have done if it had taken longer to kill."

J'zargo, Onmund, and Brelyna all eyed the twins with expressions varying from impressed to suspicious. "You killed a dragon?" Onmund asked, amazed.

"Hey; the skeleton's right out in town if you wanted to look at it. We'll have to deal with that, later," Aramen mentioned to Tolfdir. _But thank the Nine the College came out to help. If we'd had to face that thing alone… there would no doubt have been civilian casualties._

"Indeed. But for now, we must continue our lesson." Tolfdir clapped his hands together. "So, as I was saying, the first thing to understand is that magic is, by its very nature, volatile and dangerous. Unless you can control it, it can and will destroy you."

Brelyna cut in. "Sir, I think we all understand that fairly well. We wouldn't be here if we couldn't control magic!"

"Of course, my dear," Tolfdir responded patiently. "Of course. You all certainly possess some inherent natural ability. That much is not being questioned. What I'm talking about is true control, mastery of magic. It takes years, if not decades, of practice and study."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get started!" J'zargo stated impatiently.

"Please, please! This is exactly what I'm talking about. Eagerness must be tempered with caution, or else disaster is inevitable."

"But we've only just arrived here - you've no idea what any of us are capable of." Onmund spread his hands. "Why not give us a chance to show you what we can do?"

Tolfdir hummed and turned to the twins. "You've been quiet so far. What do you think we should do?"

"I think that the best option would be to teach them something defensive; something to protect themselves when their eagerness does cause an accident," Mikael suggested. "It's best they be alive to learn from their mistakes. From there, perhaps they can demonstrate their proficiencies. It would certainly be good to know the strengths and weaknesses."

Tolfdir's face wrinkled in a smile. "Ah, yes. An excellent idea. Then, our first lesson will be on the usage of wards. Wards are protective spells that block magic," he explained to the new students.

J'zargo huffed. "As long as we get to start actually doing magic, I am content."

"Wards are incredibly useful," Aramen lectured.

"Indeed! These two erected a ward to protect the inn from the breath attack of the dragon not twenty minutes ago," Tolfdir informed them. "I'll teach you all a ward, and we'll see if you can successfully use it to block spells, all right?" The old mage faced the twins. "Would you mind helping me with the demonstration?"

"But of course, sir." Mikael moved into position, casting the ward.

Tolfdir conjured a fireball and launched it at the taller man. It detonated harmlessly off the shield, leaving floating embers behind. The other students watched intently. "Now, I want you all to start practicing wards. I will come around and show you how to form one." Tolfdir approached each student and walked them through the steps of casting a ward. Soon, shimmering shields were held by each aspiring mage, and the older man tossed simple spells at them, testing their strengths.

A few minutes later, Tolfdir called them back together. "Alright, that should be enough for an introduction. I want you all to continue practicing that tonight. Tomorrow, we will move onto another topic."

Internally, both the twins sighed in relief. It seemed they wouldn't be sending fresh-off-the-street students into a potentially dangerous and unknown expedition into an ancient tomb. Maybe they haven't even started exploring it yet. Another difference from the game, but again a logical one.

They decided it was best to get introductions out of the way before they settled in, so they approached each of the apprentices in turn. Brelyna gave them her defensive spiel right off the bat, while the Twins played ignorant to the past of Winterhold, assuring her they had no preconceptions or bias towards her. With a nod, she departed. Onmund rattled off some exposition for them about Magic and its past, before turning back around to work on his own ward. J'zargo immediately questioned them on their Destruction skills, to which they replied they had made some decent progress (compared to many, especially since they'd technically only known it for a little over two weeks now), and he bristled with confidence and hopes for a challenge, asserting his viewpoint of everything being a competition. Mikael and Aramen bade him farewell as they exited the main hall and went back to the living quarters.

They were fortunate to have been a duo, since they requested that they both be placed in the upper floor's quarters. Lydia was there, unpacking their respective bags in each room.

"Ah, wonderful. Thanks, Lydia," Aramen greeted.

"Of course, my Thanes. How did your introduction go?"

They chuckled. "Well," Mikael said as he sat down on the bed, "it was fairly simple. We showed off a bit of our Warding to the other three students, and we were told that we'd move on to more stuff tomorrow. For now, we were to practice wards, but… it's not like we need much.

"Now, I'm sure that you're wondering why *you* are here, Lydia," Mikael continued. The woman nodded, hesitantly. "We weren't able to procure you quarters here since you're not studying magic, but we'll head down to the Inn and see about getting you a room there on a long-term basis."

Aramen leaned against the wardrobe. "See, we're learning magic here, but we still need to practice our melee fighting, lest we get rusty. And I'm not sure how much magic you've dealt with, but more practice fighting against mages can't hurt. So from now on, we want to set a schedule. Every morning, around 7am, we want to meet you in town, where we'll head out to the coast and do some workouts, like running and whatnot. After that, we'll spar. Firstly just using melee weapons, then afterwards using magic and melee. Maybe slot in some Archery here or there. Weekends are going to be reserved for adventuring and travel, and maybe longer. We'll have to talk to the professors. What are your thoughts?"

She seemed taken aback by the sudden and well thought-out arrangement. "I am not opposed to the idea, my Thanes, but I worry I won't be able to teach you much."

Mikael waved her off. "Please, we don't have a lot of experience in proper combat. The thugs and bandits we take out aren't trained the way you're trained… I think. Besides, I mostly hit them with magic rather than melee. It's important to know both. Magic is all well and good until a fighter can get you in axe-chopping range. Fat lotta good these robes to against hard steel," he commented while plucking at his robes. "Say, while we're at it, how _did_ you become a Housecarl, anyway?"

"Hold up," Aramen interrupts, lifting a hand. "Why don't we sit and have some food? I'm fairly hungry and we haven't eaten since breakfast."

Mikael and Lydia's stomachs rumbled, so they all stood up and went to the small dining table on their floor. Sitting down, Aramen poured out some mead into three goblets while Mikael pulled out some food, chopping carrots and clam meat, cooking the latter with a quick application of concentrated fire. He set three dishes and passed them around.

"Well, I was only chosen to be a Housecarl when you two were appointed as Thanes," Lydia began, taking a drink to wet her lips. "My father, Hrongar, raised me when my mother passed while I was very young. He taught me everything I know about combat, and about the world. Though, I've never really been far outside of Whiterun before." She paused for a moment, biting into her food. "He wanted to keep me close. And I was happy to. I served as a backup guard of sorts, occasionally sent out to deal with bandits or animal problems. Then, when the Western Watchtower was attacked, the Jarl called for me. He asked if I would be able to take on a task, to which I immediately agreed. He told me that if you two were to return victorious, he was intending to appoint you two as Thanes. As such, you would need a Housecarl. Jarl Balgruuf appointed me yours the moment you returned."

"You don't seem to be too bothered by what must have been a very sudden change," Mikael noted.

The Nord woman shook her head. "I swore to follow the orders of the Jarl and to protect him. As such, it is my duty to be here and to help you two. It is admittedly different than what I am used to, but I will persevere."

Aramen smiled around some crab meat. "I certainly hope that we aren't just an annoyance you have to put up with, Lydia."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "No; never, my Thanes! I was merely-"

Laughter came from the pair of them. "Merely teasing, Lydia," Mikael assured her. "We are quite glad to have you here, and we are more than willing to help you in any way you need, or listen to whatever concerns or questions you may have. If we're to be partners, don't let uncertainty prevent you from action."

Lydia turned back to her food, continuing to eat. A small smile formed on her lips. They all sat in comfortable silence for a couple minutes, eating their meager meal. "So, the Jarl is your Uncle, then? What's that like?" Mikael prompted.

"He looked after me when my father was away doing other duties. Teaching me of politics, and loyalty. Irileth would also occasionally watch after me, when I was still young. She taught me much of Archery." She smiled again, wider this time. "Every year, on my birthday, the Jarl made a point to sit and have lunch with me, no matter what the conditions of the world were like. My father, the Jarl, and Irileth."

The two Bretons smiled, silently agreeing that they had very much made the right choice in putting their faith into Jarl Balgruuf. And it was something else they had never known before about Lydia or the world. It was nice.

After finishing their meals, Lydia set off for the inn with gold in hand. The both of them knew they could have the room for free for dealing with Ranmir, but they wanted to stimulate the economy as much as possible in this town, then asked her to report to the college first thing in the morning for training. Mikael and Aramen settled in that night with a single resonating thought in their heads.

 _Training montage time, baby._

* * *

It was about a week later that they had their first proper lecture, one involving all of the staff, in fact. The students all lined up in the Hall of Elements, eagerly awaiting their upcoming lesson. In front of them stood all the primary Scholars for each field. Mirabelle Ervine cleared her throat to get everyone's attention. "Okay, class, we are here to discuss the topic of magic."

"J'zargo could have guessed that was the topic. Are we not in a school for just that?" the Khajiit commented.

"Yes, we are," Mirabelle replied with a sharp look. "However, you must ask yourself: What exactly is magic?"

Brelyna was the first to raise her hand. "Magic is the manipulation of magicka to directly control reality."

Tolfdir nodded approvingly. "A textbook answer, well spoken. But what is Magicka?"

"While the origins of Magicka are unclear, it is theorized that is the energy and power left behind by Magnus when he created Nirn, or possibly that he cracked reality and allowed aether energy to seep into the world, which we know as Magicka," Mikael offered up his wiki answer.

"There are not many who look into the history of Magicka," Tolfdir spoke with a smile. "Well done. But we are here to discuss the many uses of Magicka."

Faralda stepped forward. "Why is it that you never burn your hands when casting Flames? Or get frostbite from ice? Or shocks from electricity? But once you send out the fireball, you can feel the heat from the explosion. Feel the cold from the spike of ice." She paused, but no student seemed ready to answer. "If you were simply using magic to create a chemical reaction that produces flames in the space around your hands, you would still be burned." As she spoke, the various spell effects shot from her hands into the air. "In actuality, your raw magic is being brought out of your body and transforming into your desired outcome. Because your magic is attuned to your body, it protects itself from harm. After leaving your control, it solidifies into the form you intended and is no longer a part of you, it is a part of the world. In all essences, that is the basics of magic; Channeling the magic into the form you desire, then releasing it."

"Conjuration spells such as the Bound Weapons variety are of the same format; shaping raw Magicka into a form," Phinis Gestor picked up. "However, some work slightly differently. Summon spells, for instance, are not creating the raw form of a Zombie, or a Skeleton, nor a Daedra. Conjuration pulls one of these creatures from another realm, most often one of the realms of Oblivion, for a temporary period of time. During this summoning, you shackle them to your will, making them allies." With a wave of his hand, a skeleton popped up beside him. "It is also why such spells do not last very long. The duration of the spell runs out in equivalence to the amount of Magicka input and the focus of the initial casting, hence why Masters of Conjuration can summon creatures for hours at a time. Note that summoning is different from reanimation spells, where your magic is cast into a corpse to grant it basic function again. It does not restore the soul, and only reanimates parts of the mind, merely forcing the body to move again and perform simple tasks, such as attacking or moving. The stress of your magic on the body, however, causes it to breakdown the moment the spell deactivates, reducing the corpse to ashes."

"It is with the subject of magic and the body that we move on to Restoration." Colette Marence stepped forward. "This branch of magic has uses in all places of the world. Healing is a skill that is always in demand. While Restoration is commonly used for healing, there are a number of spells designed for use against Undead. Restoration is used by priests often for sanctifying rituals, and for warding off undead. Mainly, discouraging them from attacking or causing them to flee." Colette cast _Turn Undead_ at the skeleton, causing it to suddenly take off running out of the hall. It didn't make it farther than the door before it disappeared. "However, the main use of this branch is healing. These spells work by channeling magic into your body or the body of another, giving energy help fuel an accelerated healing process. Wards work on the basic principle of solidifying magic into a shield, as you've all seen."

"Forcing your magic into another person leads us then to Illusion spells. Illusion can make your enemies be calm, and bolster your allies." Drevis Neloren seemed quite peppy with his explanation. "It can make people flee in terror or drive them into a frenzy. Silence your steps, or mask your movement. Illusion is a field of magic that faces much controversy when brought to the attention of… less educated individuals. Any spell that can manipulate the thoughts of another is always going to be treated with suspicion, and doubly so for the caster. In general, it is best not to flaunt this particular branch, for others are not kind when their mind is tinkered with. You will also discover that the stronger a person is; whether it be in strength, speed, or magick, it will be much more difficult to influence them. The simple fact is that those who have become more experienced in life and have faced greater challenges naturally have more resistant minds, and thus it takes careful and powerful focus and a great deal of Magicka for any such spells to be effective against them."

The Twins noticed that no mention was made of the _Clairvoyance_ spell. They supposed it made sense in the context of reality. _Clairvoyance_ was Bethesda's way of showing mercy to the player base when some of the dungeons got a bit too labyrinthian. If everyone had a spell they could cast to show them what to do in their day-to-day life, it would have changed a lot of things. Still a shame, though. Could have been very useful to exploit.

Tolfdir cleared his throat, noticing the Twins had lost focus. They snapped back to attention. "Raw manipulation of the self and the world around you lies under the branch of Alteration. You will find spells that surround your body in hard substances, allow you to grasp objects from afar, sense other beings, grant light, stopped creatures in their place, and allow underwater breathing." Tolfdir's hand turned into oak, then he lifted a book off a shelf and brought it over, casting a light overhead. "Alteration is generally considered to be the most difficult and least used branch of Magic. Many of the spells used are situational, and don't see popular use. But it is within Alteration that the foundation of Magicka is held; changing the self and the world around you into the form you desire. As stated, a mage could create an outer shell of oak or iron, making them more resilient. Telekinesis is a simple matter of using Magicka to grasp the object and launch it. The detection category of spells work by sending out a very subtle amount of your magic in all directions, finding the creatures you have set it to discover, and then returning that information to you with a visual glow. Waterbreathing simply creates breathable air in your lungs. Paralysis spells are a result of your magic entering the body of the target and stopping their limbs from movement."

A shimmer of light, and suddenly Savos Aren stood in front of the class, a smile on his face. "Now that you understand the basics of each branch, you no doubt begin to see just how they all link together, how mastering a single branch makes others easier to learn. It is for this reason that neglecting the study of any branch is discouraged, as they all help whichever you intend to primarily focus on. Everything you learn here will aid you, if you have the patience and the determination for it. Class dismissed."

Aramen and Mikael were rather pleased. This particular lecture had not existed in the game, and they wondered exactly what had brought it on. They didn't need it, since they already knew everything from the Wikipedia pages, and thus the broad descriptions of Magicka were unnecessary, but it was great to listen to from the perspectives of the teachers.

* * *

It had been two months since that day. Two months of morning workouts with Lydia, Weekend dungeon excursions, daily schooling, and trips to Whiterun. They'd expanded their magical understanding and power greatly, and even started working on some of their favorite mod spells. Though Winterhold lacked a proper forge for Aramen, he had managed to make a few things on their trips to Whiterun. Mikael had been disenchanting most every magical item they got their hands on from their excursions, selling the excess through Birna's Oddments.

Now that was something else they'd put a considerable amount of effort into. True to his word, Mikael and Aramen did nearly all of their trades through Birna. When it quickly became clear she wasn't able to move such things all on her own, they suggested she expand her store and hire some assistants, and make some contacts in other cities. She was very skeptical at the time, but Aramen assured her they had people they could talk to. It was with this they recommended dealing business in Whiterun. Aramen rode along with her caravan as protection on their first trip, helping her move her trade goods. Birna swiftly made deals with the bustling marketplace of the city and reaped a tidy profit, along with making a few business friends. With this new rush of income, Birna did indeed expand the size of her store, a project that took a month in and of itself. She also hired along an assistant named James, who minded the store when she was off doing deliveries. But most crucially, the Twins had showed her how she could truly earn money…

(Flashback: A week after the lecture)

"So tell me what brings us out here? You claimed to have a business proposition for me." Birna stood on the coastline with the Twins, both of whom were grinning widely. Beside them sat a large fire, atop which a larger cauldron was positioned, the sound of bubbling and sizzling denoting the liquid content. Alongside that were several much smaller pans.

Mikael cleared his throat. "Well, Birna; as you are no doubt aware, salt is an incredibly valuable resource. Food seasoning and preservation is very important, after all. Everyone has need of it"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, everyone knows that. It's practically worth its' weight in gold."

"What if we could offer you a steady supply of salt, for years to come?"

"Aye, that would be a fine thing," Birna agreed. "But where do you plan to find it? Salt mines are few and far between, and already owned by the Jarls."

The Twins grinned even broader. "Why, it's all around you, my dear," Aramen said with a grandiose flourish.

The merchant looked around skeptically. "All I see is ice, water, and snow. What foolishness is this?"

Mikael walked over to a small pan by the cauldron. "Come here and hold out your hands." Still not quite understanding, the woman cupped her hands together. Mikael tipped the pan over, emptying a small pile of salt into her hands.

Birna's eyes boggled. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She stared at the two Bretons with an obvious question.

Aramen chuckled. " _Saltwater,_ Birna." He gestured to the sea. "The Sea of Ghosts is connected to the Padomaic Ocean, and all oceans are saltwater. Sitting below the College and on the shore of Winterhold is an endless treasure trove of salt. Where we hail from, this is common knowledge, but it seems Skyrim remained ignorant of this fact. The process of collecting salt from saltwater is thus:

"First, you must boil the water until only a tenth of it remains. The product will look like wet sand. This is then poured into a small container, such as this pan," he nodded towards it. "It is then left uncovered for about 3-5 days, stirred occasionally. In the end, you have pure salt." He tapped the large cauldron with his sword. "In here is more water boiling. It's crude and inefficient, and all we can really do in our busy schedule. So, we plan to come out here every morning to collect the salt, refill the cauldron, and set the fire."

"But such knowledge is only as valuable as it is secret," Mikael cautioned. "Were this common knowledge, other cities such as Dawnstar, Solitude, and Windhelm would start doing this, and then Salt would become far more common-"

"And thus less valuable, yes I understand." Birna said with some annoyance, still somewhat dazed.

"We cannot provide for you forever, so you will have to one day hire assistants to take care of this. Set up proper facilities down here, maybe." Mikael's tone shifted more businesslike. "We shall expect 40% of the profits on the sale of this salt in the future. This first batch will be in good faith."

"15%. When you leave, I will have to take care of this myself, and you will no longer be putting forth the work for it," she immediately countered.

"30%," Aramen shot back. "We will continue to provide refinement ideas and improvements in the future as they become available. And you would have had no clue of this had we not mentioned it."

Birna thought for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. 30%."

"Excellent!" Mikael proclaimed with a smile and a clap. "I just so happen to have a contract here…"

(End Flashback)

Mikael and Aramen had no intention of taking much of the profits from the start, but they highballed because you always highball in a barter. Birna had ensured James to secrecy when she started having him mind it, and the man seemed honest.

What they didn't tell Birna yet was they were also very carefully sifting through the salt while they had control over it, looking for iodine. While very sparse, having even a bit of it can prove to be incredibly beneficial. They knew that explaining the biological and mental benefits of iodized salt to the general populace was a fool's errand, but they still planned to use it when they could, and explain it someone sharp enough one day. Maybe Birna will learn more and be able to understand it one day.

Lydia slowly got more and more used to the off behavior of the Twins, even though she often didn't understand some of their words and phrases. As she trained them, they gave her more and more of a challenge, which allowed her to improve as well. When fighting one-on-one, Lydia bested each of them, with them only managing to squeak out the occasional victory when they used magic. Together, though, they were a force to be reckoned with. Lydia lost most every time, though it was a hard-won victory nonetheless. She had also become a regular face at The Frozen Hearth, so most of the villagers knew her. Being a Nord fighter made her more trustworthy, and so she had few problems with any resident.

Similar to that, the Twins managed to convince some of the mages of the College to come down into town more often and be social. Not to talk about magick or any such thing unless prompted. At the moment, it was only the students and Tolfdir willing to mosey about town and be friendly, but they hope the others will come around when general opinion improves. Tolfdir himself managed to please quite a few people at the inn when he offered some potions of Cure Disease to a few sick residents, as well as enchanting Dagur's cutting knives with fire, cooking meat by the slice. The students, as well, got along better, for simply the reason that they were new and not screaming "magic users" at the townsfolk.

Even with all this success, they still were having trouble making headway with improving the city in a tangible way. The reason for this was the current Jarl. Jarl Korir was a stubborn man, one who hated the mages and the College. He was bitter about the fact that among all the holds, Winterhold was very low in regards. He wanted the city, and himself, to be seen as important again. Mikael and Aramen wanted to rebuild some buildings, encourage new growth, and build some proper walls. Expand the city. Jarl Korir might be all for that, but given that the Twins were openly associated with the College, he blocked them at most every turn.

This problem was one that had to be solved as soon as possible, because they knew renovations would take months, if not longer. They had to set the framework for the reconstruction so they could continue with other tasks. One night, they sat at the table by their rooms and pondered how to solve this.

"This damned guy has to go."

"Right, but how? We can't just outright murder him."

"Yeah, that'd be in poor taste. He's stubborn, though. How do you get rid of him in the game?"

"Well, if I remember right, he gets replaced by another guy if you side with the Imperials. Jarl Kraldar, I think."

"Hmm… maybe we can talk to him? See about getting him bumped up into the spot."

"Korir won't be moving easily, though. He'd need the whole town against him, or a damned good reason. Something like… The Helm of Winterhold."

Jarl Korir offers a quest to search for the long-lost Helm of Winterhold, a helm worn by a Jarl in line for the throne in the First Era. Korir believes that by possessing such an item, he will be taken seriously by the other holds. It would be a simple matter to retrieve the helm itself for Kraldar once they have him on board, and use it to legitimize his claim. Any protests Korir might have then would be merely sputtering, because there won't be anyone outside his own longhouse that would want him badly to stay.

* * *

"Kraldar, thank you for taking your time out to meet with us. Please, have a seat."

The trio was in the Bannered Mare, with Lydia standing outside the door to their room. It was a decision made to keep secrecy and prevent Korir from hearing of their meeting. The Nord man had been intrigued when the Twins mentioned their being Dragonborn, and agreed to meet with them in Whiterun.

"Of course, of course. It's not every day that the Dragonborn comes knocking with a proposal." Kraldar smiled as he relaxed in his chair. "As honored as I am to meet you, I am curious as to why you wanted to meet in the first place."

"Certainly, sir," Mikael promptly replied. "You see, we're students at the College of Winterhold. And immediately when we arrived at the town, we were appalled at the state it had fallen into. So lifeless and dull."

Kraldar shook his head sadly. "Yes, the Great Collapse devastated Winterhold many years ago. It is truly a shame. Early capital city, Winterhold. A wondrous place for many men, all taken down by an unfortunate accident."

"And yet…" Aramen spoke, "it seems as though Jarl Korir refuses to try and improve matters."

"Ah, Korir… he's as stubborn as they come, I'll tell you." Kraldar snorted. "As you no doubt know, he hates mages and blames the entire Collapse on the College. The man wants to be Jarl of an empty, dead city."

Aramen nodded emphatically. "It isn't right. A man should serve his people, not his interests."

Kraldar sat up straighter. "Absolutely. Couldn't agree more."

"That's… where you come in, sir." Mikael began slowly. "You see, we very much want Winterhold restored to its' former glory. The shining jewel of the North. We want a renaissance. The town expanded, proper walls built, relations with the College improved. It will not be easy, but my brother and I have been steadily acquiring resources for just such a task, though we still have far to go. We'd be able to finance and assist in reconstructing the city, but we have no authority to do so within Winterhold. Jarl Korir blocks any attempt we make, and it has not made him very well liked in his own hold. However, another Jarl may very well be more open to the idea…"

Kraldar was listening with rapt attention. He knew what they were proposing. "But how would you accomplish this?"

Mikael turned to his brother. Aramen nodded, and carefully removed a helmet from his bag, handing it Kraldar. "This is the Helm of Winterhold. It was worn by Jarl Hanse in the First Era, back when Winterhold was a true city. Wearing such a thing would certainly legitimize one's claim to the title of Jarl, and prove their seriousness to the other Holds. Jarl Korir loses favor every day. All it would take is one good push, and he could be out of the town on his ass, leaving the position to one more willing and ready to improve the lives of his people." Aramen leaned forward. "You will have no shortage of things to do, sir. This reconstruction will be a lengthy process with many tasks to be undertaken. You will never be bored, of that I can assure you. And when the people look back on your lineage, they shall agree that this was the finest act by all your family."

Kraldar sat there for a long while, eyes flicking back and forth between the two Twins and the Helm. Finally, he sighed with a smile. "Very well. See Korir unseated and I shall become Jarl of Winterhold, and you two my Thanes. I am unsure how you will accomplish this, though."

The two Bretons chuckled. "Oh we have a plan…"

* * *

 **OMAKE:**

In an alternate universe where the Twins find themselves blessed by a bit of gaming logic…

In the market square of Whiterun, nervous looks were being exchanged amongst the usually lively merchants and customers. Furtive looks constantly being directed towards the Jarl's hall from within could be heard;

" _MWAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"_ In stereo.

"My Jarl," Proventus began with no small amount of trepidation, "should we perhaps… investigate?"

" _AAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHHA! DRINK THE PESTLE JUICE!"_

"...I think it best we don't interfere in whatever they are working on," Irileth stated, hand gripping her sword tightly.

"I've of a mind with Irileth," Jarl said with certainty from his position on the throne.

It had been several hours since the newly assigned Thanes of Whiterun had pulled their housecarl into Farengar's magus quarters and asked for some privacy, booting the wizard out the door as they did. Before the doors closed, they saw the two putting on very fine and fancy clothes.

Sounds of alchemical concoctions and magic came from behind the door intermittent with the mad laughter, along with the occasional questioning tone from Lydia asking why the two Thanes were constantly disrobing and re-robing.

Without warning, the door suddenly burst open, to reveal… nobody. Lydia, Farengar, and Proventus all approached the now empty door and peered in questioningly.

"Boo!"

All three jumped, Lydia immediately turning and slashing, as was her instinct, her sword cleaving through the chest of the taller Breton twin, who had somehow snuck behind them without noticing. The sword got caught about halfway through his torso.

Farengar shrieked. Irileth looked horrified. Proventus fainted.

Mikael looked down at the sword in his chest. "Whoops. Here, let me get that for ya," he said as he pulled the blade out and handed it to Irileth. "Guess it was a bit rude of me to play that bit of prank. Shoulda known the Jarl's bodyguard would be jumpier." Looking at him, no one could tell he had a sword in his heart and lungs a moment ago. "Right, well, must be off to the blacksmith. Be back in a few minutes." With that parting comment, he vanished in front of their eyes.

Guards around the hall, servants, and everyone else merely stared at the spot where the man had been, completely shocked and numb. Irileth absentmindedly cleaned her blade and put it back in her sheath.

The gathered people had just started to try and rationalize what they had just witnessed and get on with their business when the doors slammed closed again, causing everyone to flinch.

" _AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAA! SWEET POTION GRAVY!"_ Arose once more, this time in three-part harmony.

Jarl Balgruuf rose from his throne and proceeded to step over to the door. Before he could knock, it swung open again, this time with actual people behind it.

Lydia stood head to foot in dragon armor, both bones and scales mixed in. Her weapons were similarly as impressive. Aramen's outfit was a forest green, a ranger-type outfit with a hood and cloak, looking very lithe and practical, if lightly armored. Mikael was covered in black robes with what appeared to be ebony plating covering most of him. All three of them wore identical faces of utter joy and happiness.

Needless to say, Farengar fainted this time.

"Mikael. Aramen. Lydia." Jarl Balgruuf greeted with an even tone. "I ask you to explain what's going on."

"Why, Jarl Balgruuf!" Aramen shouted with exuberance. "We were just getting ourselves nice and upgraded. Making some new equipment and enchanting them. Speaking of," he pulled a necklace out of his pocket. "This amulet is enchanted to negate all poison, magic, and other such non-physical attacks against you. It also includes enough health regeneration to potentially regrow any lost limbs and prevent everything short of a decapitation from killing you outright. Thought it would be a fair gift in exchange for letting us borrow your mage's room for a bit."

The Nord man took the amulet graciously and placed it around his neck, feeling the immense power settle over him. "A fine gift. How did you accomplish this?"

"Oh, just a combination of making potions that help us enchant better and enchantments that help us make potions better, do that back and forth for a while and you'll eventually reach untold amounts of power," Mikael explained with an airy wave. "Anywho, we've got some things to go take care of, so we'll leave you be. Come along, Lydia."

"Of course, my Thanes," Lydia said with a feral grin.

In a blur of speed, the three were gone from the great hall. Jarl Balgruuf simply sat back down on the throne and started drinking… non-stop. Everyone else was still in shock, and nobody would remember what the Twins just explained, too busy were they repressing the memories.

XxX

In the fields outside Whiterun, a small clan of giants scatters in fear. A shadow passes over head, first getting smaller and smaller, before growing in size rapidly. Landing on the lead runner is another giant. Several hundred feet behind them Aramen laughs as he swings a ludicrously oversized bone mallet as a golf club, sending another giant careening across the sky with such speed that the air friction caused it to burst into flames meeting violently with an elder dragon that had been unfortunate enough to have caught Aramen's eye and starting a mercifully brief journey into the harsh unyielding stones of The Throat of the World.

Paarthurnax opened one eye when he heard something fast approaching. This did not last long however as he soon was forced to open both wide in order to fully appreciate just what he was seeing. The body of one of his crueler kin, with what appeared to be a giant impaled halfway through it and on fire, speared into the mountaintop just shy of his resting place. Soon after the Elder Dragon started dissolving into light leaving a pile of bones and scaled to clatter down the mountain side after the tumbling body of a giant. Paarthurnax clenched both eyes shut before laying his head down to rest, and hopefully forget.

XxX

The bandits were enjoying a lovely day inside the once abandoned fort they had re-purposed as their hidey-hole. There was about 50 or 60 of them total in the building and on the ramparts. It was another successful day, having just hit a caravan with a few wealthy pricks and now counting the coin. They didn't hear the sound of a blade being drawn, nor did they feel their bodies be completely obliterated as stone, earth, and flesh were all disintegrated by sheer force from a mighty blow.

Lydia sheathed her sword. "Area clear, Mikael."

"Brilliant," Mikael said giddily. He flexed his fingertips and a monolith of ebony measuring over one hundred feet high rose from the ground atop the ruins of the destroyed fort. "Much better looking, this. It'll serve as a decent outpost."

XxX

"FIFTY SEPTIMS ON IT?"

"YOU'RE ON!"

Mikael stood on top of the Blue Palace in Solitude, making gun fingers at his Twin, who was standing on top of Mistveil Keep in Riften, an apple on the shorter man's head. Mikael took a deep breath, and cast lightning bolt.

A magical blue bolt erupted across the sky of Skyrim, shattering glass bottles and windows across the country with the sound of thunder. Sides of mountains were scorched as the lightning passed close by. About three seconds after the spell was cast, it landed on target… Aramen's forehead. Aramen was blasted backwards, his body in free fall for a few moments before landing heavily on a road to the east, by a sign that read "Now Entering Morrowind".

An older man in a dapper suit and a strange walking stick regarded him. "Aye, it's right fun being all-powerful? Think of all the cheese you can make now!" Without warning, he thrust his hand into the Breton's chest, ripping out his intestines, and then offered them to the younger man.

Aramen took his entrails with a smirk and starting skipping rope. "You know, this is more fun than I thought."

Sheogorath laughed. "Now you're getting it! Come visit sometime!" He snapped his fingers and disappeared, leaving only a wheel of cheese in his place.

"LOOKS LIKE I WIN!" Aramen shouted.

"FUCK! STILL, WORTH IT!"

XxX

Lydia, Aramen, and Mikael stumbled out of the Hall of Valor in Sovngarde, followed by the entirety of its' patrons, who watched them nearly trip and fall off the bridge as they crossed it. Above their heads flew Alduin, who roared his challenging roar.

"Eh? Wha…? Fuck yoo lookin' at, Aldweeb?" Mikael drunkenly slurred. " _JOOW ZU FAL -_ wait wazit? _DOOR ZHWO FRUN_ \- no, ah fuck it," he gave up trying to remember the _Dragonrend_ shout and just punched his fist to the sky towards the World-Eater.

The air rippled and boomed as the force knocked Alduin out of the sky in front of the trio. Stunned, the dragon could do nothing but try to recover as it stared at the drunken party.

"Whus was our one-liner gonna be?" Lydia asked, propping herself up with her sword.

"Yur assh is grashs and *BURP*" Aramen offered.

"I dun fackin remembbr." Mikael said. "Lesh jus kill him and go back inside, I'm thirshty."

Alduin attempted to climb to his feet, but it was far too slow for people who could move faster than sound. Three fists met the onyx dragon in the face, all of creation shuddered, and a quiet *Pop!* was heard. Alduin was punched so hard he was removed from existence entirely.

An uproarious cheer came from the dead warriors of Sovngarde. The party turned back around to them, grinning. "We sshaved the world!" Aramen shouted. "NOW LESH GET WASHTED!" The applause and cheering grew even louder.

XXXXXXXXX

 **Thanks very much for reading thus far, ladies and gents and others. I keep holding out hope those viewing numbers will start climbing up higher any day now, and every review (10 so far) pushes me to keep writing.**

 **My brother and I had a hell of a lot of fun writing this here omake, which we intend to continue in some capacity in the future, as well as a different series of omakes that I've been planning for a while. Those won't be soon, sadly, but keep the faith and you'll see them in time.**

 **Until then, cheers ta thank you very much and hope you enjoyed.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Korir was not happy. That in and of itself was unsurprising, as the man was rarely ever happy.

Winterhold. Once a mighty and prosperous city. How he would have killed to live there in its' prime. His ancestors lived here for generations. His father, grandfather, great-grandfather… And he hoped, his son, and grandchildren. Even if times were hard, he was a Nord. He would stand tall.

But however tall he stood, he was still looked down upon by the other Holds. Winterhold had fallen far, he would admit, but for the other Jarls to dismiss him completely, as if he and his family were mere peasants! They had inhabited Skyrim long before many of their families had even set foot in this country, and yet they considered him of no consequence.

Thaena, his beloved wife, walked in from outside, shaking off the cold and looking annoyed. "That...wizard is still at the inn. I can't believe Dagur allows him to stay there."

Korir snorted derisively. "That is what it's come to. No one seems to care what they've done to our home."

"It's clear that memories are far too short."

"And it's clear that money matters more to Dagur than honor."

Those damned wizards. Everything that has happened to Winterhold was because of them. Their strange magics and secrets. They thought themselves better than everyone, even the Jarls, even the High King, no doubt! Ha! How wise and powerful they were, to have caused the Great Collapse. And to deny it was their fault. Any man could see it plainly as the snow. Pure chance that only the College remained unscathed by the storms while the entire town fell into the Sea of Ghosts. "Protective Magics" indeed.

And now they walk into town, casually. The newcomers, especially. They show their faces and talk to the people as if they don't all have the blood of the city on their hands. All wizards and magic users and those damned Elves should get out of Skyrim. They did nothing but destroy and throw lights around an prance about acting superior. Well, they were all soft before the point of his blade. He wanted them gone.

Not that he could do much about it. No authority. Not when the other Holds ignored him and the mages stayed up in their school most times. No proof. As suspicious as most people were of them, none could truly give evidence to give excuse to drive them away.

 _It doesn't matter,_ he thought to himself. _My family will be here long after they're all gone. We will outlast them._

It was at that point that Jarl Korir was shaken out of his thoughts by his wife. "What? What is it?"

"Korir, all the townspeople are gathered outside, as well as many wizards. They don't look happy," Thaena explained worriedly.

Korir listened, and could hear the sounds of a crowd outside the front door. Normally he would stay seated and allow someone to come speak to him, but he felt ill at east allowing an entire town's worth of people entering at once. "Very well. I'll go see what is wrong. Keep Assur company." He swallowed his nervousness and proceeded to the door.

Opening it, he found his wife's assessment to be correct. The entirety of the town seemed to have gathered in front of the longhouse. Birna standing alongside her brother, Dagur, Haran, Enthir, and that damned mage Nelacar, shoulder to shoulder. A few students from the College. At the front of the crowd stood the two most recent newcomers.

"Jarl Korir. So glad you could join us," Mikael said in a mocking tone.

The Jarl was immediately angry. "And what exactly are you doing, wizard?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"This," Aramen thrust a piece of parchment at him. "Is a petition, signed by every member of the town, that you step down as Jarl, and hand over the position to Jarl Kraldar."

Korir's eyes snapped to the other man. "I'll not be conceding the title of Jarl to any man but my son. This is all nonsense."

"I think you'll find you're very much on your own in that opinion, Korir," Kraldar replied. "It seems everyone agrees I'd be better suited for the position than you."

"And why is that?" Korir challenged.

"Because he doesn't inhibit progress." Mikael stood directly in front of the man, looking down on him. "You claim to serve to protect your people and their prosperity, yet every proposal my brother or I made was shot down. You refuse to allow us the opportunity to do good for Winterhold. You've made no effort to improve their lives."

"You damned magic users stay out of our business," he replied with a snarl. "Winterhold is my city. You have no right to interfere. Guards!"

Two Winterhold Guards emerged from inside the house, flanking the Jarl. Their bodies shifted nervously in front of such a crowd.

"And yet, we have done more for this city in a few months than you have in years," Aramen retorted, ignoring the new arrivals. "More economic growth, more trade, improved relations. The people agree with us."

Assur came running to the front door. "Father, what's going on? Mother told me to wait in my room but I wanted to see."

"Go back inside, son," Korir turned to his child. "Your father is working. The mages seem to be causing trouble."

The young boy looked at the robed individuals in particular. "I hate the mages. They're bad people."

Mikael stopped and faced the boy. He kneeled down onto a knee and put a hand on the child's shoulder. "Did your father tell you that, little one?" The boy nodded. "I'm afraid he's been telling you lies. He doesn't like mages and he tells you they're bad. But do I seem bad to you?"

"Get your disgusting hands off him, you bastard!" Korir shouted, reaching to shove Mikael back, only for his hand to be seized by Lydia, holding him in place. The guards seemed unsure of reaching for their weapons, and were stopped by a cold glare from Aramen.

The taller man stood slowly. "Look at you. So blinded by your own prejudice that you refuse to see reason. Infecting even your own child with irrational hatred. You're pathetic." Korir's face was turning red with fury. "Give it up."

Korir wrenched his hand free. "Even if nobody wanted me, the Elder Council has to choose the next Jarl. Sign whatever petition you like, Kraldar will never sit the seat!"

"If you had bothered to read the parchment" Aramen said quietly, "you'd have noticed who else's names are on the list…"

Korir grabbed the sheet and read it. This was impossible. "No… Lies… LIES! You freaks used your magic! It's the only explanation! They'd never select him!"

"Not even if he had this?" Mikael pulled a helmet from the folds of his cloak and placed it on Kraldar's head. "This is the Helm of Winterhold. We presented this knowledge to the Council, and they agreed that Kraldar has more claim to the throne than you do." At this, the two guards seemed to slowly shift to stand along with the people, leaving the Jarl standing alone.

It had taken some time, but Kraldar handled sending the petition to the upper echelons of the Empire and ensuring this amount of political clout. To the higher-ups, they didn't seem to care much about the Jarl of a nearly dead-end town…

The Jarl gaped. The Helm of Winterhold… he had planned to send someone out to find it, but no one ever offered… "Where did you find that?" He whispered, voice hoarse.

"We've been hitting the local dungeons for three months, now," Aramen explained like he was talking to an idiot. "We stumbled across it. You'd have known if you paid any attention to your people."

Mikael sighed. "I'll be blunt, Jarl Korir. Nobody wants you here. You'd be content to watch the city die so long as you were the last one in it. So you can either leave of your own volition," his eyes narrowed, his tone shifted to ice cold, and he cracked his knuckles, lightning sparking off his hands, "or we'll beat your ass black and blue in front of the College, the townspeople, and your family and send you off unconscious in a wheelbarrow."

His breathing was ragged, shallow. He considered the two men in front of him. Just looking at them, he was unsure he could take them both in a fight, and that's assuming that nobody else joined them. How had it come to this? How could he have let the city slip away from him? How did he not see this coming? Why did no one care for him any longer? What should he do?

He felt a tug on his jacket. Assur's innocent face looked up at him. "Father? What's going on?"

Could he stand to let his son watch him be beaten in front of him? Could he risk his son's safety if he tried to interfere? What man would do that to his child?

What choice did he have?

Korir took a steadying breath. "I… I will concede." He took the axe from his belt and tossed to Kraldar. "I will leave. But my family will return one day to claim what is ours. You remember this day." With that, he grabbed his son and turned back inside.

He had to prepare to leave for Windhelm.

XxX

About 3 hours later, Korir and his family had vacated, leaving an empty longhouse. A longhouse that was now filled, as Kraldar stood in front of the chair, the Twins in front of him, and the townsfolk behind them. Also called in were the staff of the College, including Archmage Aren.

"I, Kraldar, do hereby claim the position of Jarl of Winterhold." He looked at the gathered people. "I've lived in this town for all my life, and have always dreamed of what it could become. I've watched people leave, and few return. I've seen the cold seeping into our homes, night after night. I've heard the sadness in all our voices as we talked in the tavern. Well now I say, no more! I promise to my people that I will see this city brought back to prosperity, that all will be welcome in these doors for any reason, and that I will not allow the fear of the unknown divide us any longer." He gestured for Savos to step forward, and extended a hand. "The College is the Jewel of Winterhold, and the mages my people as well. We will no longer be strangers, but friends."

Savos looked just a bit uncomfortable with all the attention, but shook his hand nonetheless. "Yes, of course. We thank you, Jarl Kraldar." He stepped back.

"And for the two we must all thank most…" The Twins stepped forward. "Aramen and Mikael Viator. You have done right by this city since you first arrived, and you promise much more. You have shown concern, integrity, and care. I can think of no two people better suited for the task. By my right as Jarl, I name you both Thanes of Winterhold, and grant you my personal permission to help the city in whatever way you deem fit."

"We will not abuse this trust, Jarl," Aramen promised solemnly with a bow, Mikael following suit.

The Nord chuckled. "Please, just keep calling me Kraldar. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you two." He returned his gaze to the rest. "We have much work to do, and it will not be easy, nor will it be swift. But I answer to all of you, and will listen to whatever grievances you may have. Never hesitate to call on me." A general sound of agreement came from the group. "And we will begin at once. If there are any pressing concerns, bring them to Thonjolf. We will begin organizing a list of tasks to tackle. If you don't, then please head over to the Frozen Hearth, where Birna has prepared a banquet in celebration." A cheer rose up from the gathered people. Smiles blossomed from near every face. Hope trickled back into their eyes. They had witnessed the beginning something great here, and none of them were liable to forget it.

"Kraldar, we've got a few things to get started on right away, so we shall be departing," Mikael explained as Lydia and Aramen made for the door.

"Of course, my friends."

XxX  
They had hopped a carriage ride, headed to Solitude. But the capital city was not their final destination for this trip: they were going to do The Break of Dawn quest. Construction for Winterhold wasn't going to be cheap, and as such they needed more funds. They currently had the majority of their gold in double locked chests in their dorm rooms. Meridia had tons of loot just lying around and she never seemed to mind the player taking it all. This would be exactly the boost they needed to get started on the big projects.

 _Plus,_ the Twins thought, _it's smart to get the "Good" Daedra on your side, especially after we pissed off Vaermina. A little divine favor goes a long way._

The College had promised to keep a watchful eye out for the next couple of days, with wizards doing patrols throughout the day. It was also a practical application of their spells, as they practiced casting at random animals that wandered by. Onmund managed to kill a wolf, to which Dagur heartily appreciated. A good deal of cheering was heard from the tavern that night.

The carriage had made good time, only needing to stop to make camp for one night, during which Mikael had asked the driver about potentially procuring several carriages for large deliveries at some point in the future. The driver was interested by the thought and they had agreed to speak more when they returned to Winterhold.

After an uneventful night during which they took turns keeping watch, they broke camp in the morning and pushed on.

"My Thanes?" Lydia asked suddenly as they bounced along.

"Yes, Lydia? Something on your mind?" They both turned to her.

"About Jarl Korir… was that the only option?"

"No," Aramen responded immediately. "We could have slowly, over several months, attempted to earn his trust and confidence in order to gain his permission for our projects. But that is still very unlikely to have worked. Korir is a man set in his ways. He hates magic and all who use it for no good reason. It'd have been an uphill battle trying to convince him. Alternatively, we could have directly challenged him early on and probably beat him, but we'd have no replacement Jarl and it's not like we could take the seat."

Mikael nodded. "As far as threatening him goes, well… threatening him alone wouldn't be enough. You well know Nords don't shy away from a fight without cause. We needed to intimidate him, show we were very serious, and let him think on what would happen not only to him, but to his family. If he was alone, he very well may have simply challenged us to combat for no other reason than pride. But he had a family holding him back from acting too rash. We're also banking on them keeping him from charging back here, sword in hand. It wasn't ideal to indirectly threaten them, but it had to be done. In the end, he had to go. Korir was nothing but an obstacle in the way of progress and he was too thick-headed and lacking of self-awareness to realize it. A man who does no good for his people should never be allowed to sit in such a position."

"Kraldar will serve as a good replacement. The Empire endorses him, so no problems from the higher-ups. He's lived here a while, so he's a familiar face to help ease the transition. He's smart enough to realize that even if the College had caused the Great Collapse, there'd be no point holding a grudge over it anymore, so he should be friendly. And most importantly, he wants to see the city remade. He has a hatred of boredom, and this undertaking will drive him for years to come. He's already given us blanket permission to basically do whatever we want in Winterhold, which gives us exactly the level of freedom we need to operate," Aramen summed up.

"Was this the only option? No," Mikael stated. "But it was the _best_ option for everyone in Winterhold. Maybe even Korir, whether he realizes it or not. Time will tell for him."

Lydia seemed deep in thought, and merely nodded as acknowledgement.

The carriage came to a halt, and they jumped out the back with a "Thank you" tossed over their shoulders to the driver. They proceeded down the road towards the shrine, but noticed a patrol of Thalmor Justicars down a ways, so they went off the path and climbed up the side. _Better to not be seen at a Daedra shrine by the Thalmor_. It took a bit of scrambling, but they managed it. In short order, they were near the temple.

" _Look at my temple lying in ruins! So much for the constancy of mortals; their crafts and their arts."_ Meridia's voice projected directly into their heads. Lydia immediately drew her weapon.

"Don't worry, Lyd. That's just Meridia, like we talked about," Mikael assured her. She sheathed her sword.

" _If they love me not, how can my love reach them?"_ the Daedric princess continued as they approached the statue. " _Restore my beacon, that I might guide you toward your destiny."_

Mikael dug the shining orb out of his pack and placed it on the display. A moment later, he and Aramen felt disoriented as their minds were pulled far above the clouds of Skyrim, gazing down upon the land. For a time, they admired the beautiful view and looked forward to when they could ride dragons so they could experience it again. Alas, the spell was broken as Meridia spoke.

" _It is time for my splendor to return to Skyrim. But the token of my truth lies in the ruins of my once great temple, now tainted by a profane darkness skittering within."_ Meridia seemed to be speaking more to herself at that point, but soon turned her attention towards the Twins. " _The Necromancer Malkoran defiles my shrines with vile corruptions, trapping lost souls left in the wake of this war to do his bidding. Worse still, he uses the power stored within my own token to fuel his foul deeds. I have brought you here, mortals, to be my champions. You will enter my temple, retrieve my artifact, and destroy the defiler."_

"Tell us more about this artifact we are searching for, Lady Meridia," Aramen requested.

" _Mortals call it Dawnbreaker, for it was forged in a holy light that breaks down upon my foes, burning away corruption and false life."_ She answered. " _You will enter my shrine, destroy Malkoran, and retrieve this mighty blade."_

Though they had no physical body at the moment, they both nodded resolutely. "We will rid this bastard from the face of this plane, Lady Meridia." Aramen swore.

" _Of course you will,"_ the Daedric Prince of Life stated imperiously. " _I have commanded it! Go now. The artifact must be reclaimed and Malkoran destroyed."_ She seemed to step back slightly, despite being naught but a glowing orb at the moment. " _Malkoran has forced the doors shut. But this is_ my _temple, and it responds to my decree. I will send down a ray of light. Guide this light through my temple and its' doors will open."_ The Twins felt a falling sensation and watched themselves speed towards the ground. Just before impact, they awoke and stood up, having fallen when they were first pulled up. Lydia stood there, weapon drawn and alert.

"We're alright, Lydia, just some astral projection." Mikael shook his head as he got up, assisting his brother as well. "We got a temple to restore."

The party moved back down the slope and came to the entrance. They pushed open the doors to Kilkreath Temple with some effort.

XxX

Inside, the air was heavy. An unnatural black mist seemed to coil and twist around the candlesticks, shifting around the surfaces. A foul smell of rotting flesh wafted up the tunnel to them, enunciating the dark magic within. Beside them lay a desecrated corpse of a long-dead Imperial soldier. The light was dim, even the candles seemed barely lit. Knowing full well that there were no enemies in the first area, Mikael conjured a Magelight to illuminate their way.

Down the hallway, they came across the locked door which hid the lever to the gate with treasure. Aramen managed to pick it easily enough. Inside the chest they found a few good potions and some Orcish Bolts, which Aramen readily equipped. The hall opened up into a much larger room, though rather decrepit. Rubble lay everywhere and the air still hung heavily. Regardless, they approached the pedestal and raised the stone, allowing the light a path to open the far door.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Lydia quietly commented.

"You should," the Twins replied at the same time. They dropped into a crouch. Mikael pointed at the two Corrupted Shades down below, then motioned for ranged weapons. The other two switched, and shot the dementor-looking freaks. Thanks to their sneak attack, both dropped dead, dissolving away into black ooze. The third shade in the room drew its' bow and got a single shot off that was blocked by a ward before it too was shot down. They hit the pedestal and proceeded onwards.

XxX

They reached the balcony outside, and took a moment to soak in the view. The Twins once again marveled at how beautiful Skyrim was. _Skyrim Remastered Version can suck it._ Alas, they had to continue back inside the ruins to further the beam of light. They bypassed the need for a roundabout route in the next room by just helping each other up on to the next ledge with the pedestal on it, and the on top of the metal hallway to the next. It seemed as though the ancient builders of these temples and puzzles had never considered teamwork might be involved.

 _Or maybe it's because Bethesda knew we couldn't exploit shit like that,_ chuckled Aramen.

What was quickly becoming apparent to them as they progressed, however, was that these shades were having no trouble spotting them, despite the darkness and their attempts at stealth. The simple fact of the matter was that even though they'd used the Thief stone, it didn't do them much good if they didn't start training their stealth skills. And against monsters like these, it was ineffectual. Not to mention pickpocketing, lockpicking, persuasion, and so on.

 _Looks like I may need to hit the Thieves Guild sooner than I thought,_ Mikael mused to himself.

XxX

Finally, they reached the last pedestal, which revealed the boss room. Aiming to end this quickly, the trio fired directly at the Malkoran, only for one of the shades to throw itself in the way. The other creatures immediately charged at them.

" _FUS!"_ Shouted two voices, stumbling the shades. But they weren't done. Mikael _Push_ ed them shades back, keep them reeling. _Push_ was another mod spell he had been working on, essentially a lower-level _FUS_ that could be used by anyone. He hoped to evolve it further, but this was as far as he had gotten. It was a simple spell, but he had been busy with other creations.

Creations like what Aramen proceeded to whip out. _Fireballs_ exploded in a 8 foot spheres that engulfed the shades, swiftly burning them to pieces. Not only that, but Aramen had planted his feet and blasted them with a rapid barrage of the spell. They were both confident that with practice, they would achieve the necessary focus to be able to cast such a spell on the move, but for now, he remained still.

All the while, Lydia had charged forward and engaged the necromancer directly. Malkoran was no slouch. He couldn't afford to be when he was directly pissing off a Daedric Prince. But Lydia had been fighting the Twins for three months now, and was very familiar with how to combat a mage; focus on their hands, knocking them aside when they tried to cast a spell, leaving them wide open for further attacks. To his credit, Malkoran hastily erected a shield and shot ice at her, but Lydia danced around him and hacked away.

The shades, suppressed by Mikael and burned by Aramen, all died quickly before them, though it left them both a bit drained. Shaking off their weariness, they turned in time to see Lydia stab Malkoran through the side, then bashed his throat with the thin of her shield. The necromancer crumbled, but before his body had even hit the ground, a shade rose up, more powerful than the others. Malkoran's Shade did not look happy, not at all.

That hardly seemed to matter, though. It erected a cloak of frost, which immediately numbed the party and bit at their fingers, but now the three of them were focused on him. Lydia attacked first, being right on him, and got in a single swing before she was forced to block a lightning bolt, making her retreat. Mikael poured on the flames from a distance, slowly ebbing away at the monster. Aramen charged forward, claymore poised, but quickly switched to a diagonal block as Malkoran's Shade cast a copious amount of frost at him. This went on for several moments; Lydia catching her breath, Mikael dripping sweat as he blasted flames, and Aramen trying to withstand the cold blast.

Finally, the shade sent a large ice shard towards Aramen's defense, which he blocked. Mostly. The combined chill sustained magical ice and the force from the shard caused the blade to snap in the middle where the shard struck, which also stabbed into Aramen.

"Damn, fucker…" Aramen growled. With his half a blade, he ripped the shard out of his torso and charged the shade, dodging another ice shard hurled at him, impaling its' head with the jagged metal. The creature shuddered once, then fell, dissipating into icky ghost crap.

The trio regrouped in the center of the room, healing their wounds. Aramen carefully picked up the other half of his destroyed blade and sighed. "Nope, I can't even try to be upset about this."

"Why's that?" Lydia asked, a bit confused.

"Because" the shorter twin replied with a grin. "now I just have an excuse to get an even better, more badass sword."

Mikael grinned along with him. "Damn straight." They high-fived, then paused for a moment and turned to Lydia. "Lydia, why is it you have never asked for an upgrade, either? Don't you want better equipment?"

Lydia considered this. "If my Thanes wish to grant me armor and weapons, I shall wield them proudly. But I am fine with what I have."

The two facepalmed. They had almost completely forgotten about Lydia's crappy Steel armor. "No, no, no! You should always strive for bigger and better gear. Stronger armor. Sharper weapons. More powerful rings and amulets." Mikael paced back and forth. "Skill is the most important and can't be taken away, but all it takes is one lucky bastard to get in a good stab and you could be dead. Your armor is only as strong as its' weakest spot."

Aramen nodded. "Good equipment serves as a force multiplier. Powerful artifacts and enchanted items can make even a peasant dangerous, and do far more for someone who actually knows how to fight."

"You speak wisely, my Thanes. I shall make a point to be on the lookout for better equipment," Lydia promised.

They nodded. "Well, guess we better activate this thing," Mikael commented. "Aramen, why don't you do it? You _did_ kill Malkoran, after all."

"Sure."

Activating the pedestal, the trio watched the final orb rise up, before the light blinded them. Opening their eyes, they both found themselves once more suspended in the air above Skyrim.

" _Malkoran is vanquished,"_ Meridia stated, seemingly satisfied. " _Skyrim's dead shall remain at rest. This is as it should be. This is because of you. A new day is dawning. And you shall be its' herald. Take the mighty Dawnbreaker and with it purge corruption from the dark corners of the world. Wield it in my name, that my influence may grow."_

"It shall be as you wish, Lady Meridia," Aramen said.

" _May the light of certitude guide your efforts."_

With her final words said, they felt themselves falling back to the ground once more. When they awoke, they found themselves all teleported back to the beacon on the surface.

"My Thanes… what happened?" Lydia asked, clearly confused.

"The favor of the Daedra is fluid and mysterious, as unknowing and intriguing as the deities they come from; but if earned, most powerful," Mikael said sagely. He turned to Aramen, then stopped dead. "More than you could ever imagine."

Aramen held in his hands Dawnbreaker, but it was not the same as in the game. This Dawnbreaker was easily four feet long, and the center illuminating gem was much larger than the one-handed version. It was wider and heavier, but still incredibly well balanced. As he held it, it seemed to glow even brighter and whirl with energy and light. This one even came with a sheathe, colored golden bronze with intricate designs along it, much like the blade, the edges of which shined with a wicked gleam.

It was common knowledge to gamers that the Daedric artifacts changed often from game-to-game, and that expecting it to be exactly the same as normal after all that's happened to them was a bit silly, but it still caught them off guard. It was beautiful, it was shiny, but most of all…

"This… is a badass sword," Aramen stated with authority. The blade seemed to shine brightly for a moment, as if in amusement and agreement.

XxX

 **To our few fans, sorry about the delay with this chapter. I appreciate your patience. I could make excuses and talk about what's up with my life, but I won't. Instead, I'll just say thank you for reading this, please comment, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and assure you the next one will be coming more quickly.**

 **-Waki Paki**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Kraldar stood in a side room of the Jarl's Longhouse. The map that had once displayed the Empire/Stormcloak coverage of Skyrim now showed a large view of Winterhold. Alongside him stood Thonjolf, Birna, Tolfdir, and Dagur.

It was an idea discussed by the Thanes when they talked with Kraldar about becoming Jarl, about how he should develop a fledgeling council of sorts, similar to the advisors Jarl Elisif kept.

"If I may suggest, Jarl, that we perhaps send a small gift to each of the other Jarls as a friendly greeting? It would certainly make such a sudden and unexpected transition smoother."

Kraldar nodded contemplatively. "A fine idea, Thonjolf. What should we send that would be a good present?"

"I can be of some help there, Jarl," Birna stated. "I have recently come into quite an amount of salt. Perhaps sending a small box to each?"

"A good idea, but we could use something more. Tolfdir, can the College spare anything? It would also do well to show our newfound friendship to the other holds."

"Thanks to our new arrivals, we have a good amount of potion overstock. Plenty of potions of Cure Disease," the Alterer considered. The Twins had a habit of picking every fruit, vegetable, and herb they found, and gave most of their findings to the College for potion making.

"And might I suggest sending something extra to Jarl Ulfric, Jarl Kraldar?" Thonjolf offered. "He may be somewhat concerned with this sudden power shift, considering you are Imperial sympathetic."

"Hmm…" Kraldar considered for a moment. "Birna, we may need some more of that salt. Dagur, I'll want one of the finest stag you can get your hands on in the next day or so. We'll preserve it and send it their way. Birna, see to it that the deliveries are made. Employ some couriers."

"Yes, Jarl."

With that topic dealt with, they moved on to the next matter. "I think our next priority should be establishing our proper city walls," Dagur suggested.

"I think that we should see about setting up a few more buildings to encourage new stores to open up," Birna argued. "Seeing an already established storefront will surely draw in merchants."

"That's assuming there are people ready to jump at the chance, otherwise it will be pointless until we see more visitors coming in," Kraldar observed.

"I have many contacts in Whiterun that I can use to draw out new merchants."

Dagur sighed. "But they won't come until we've got a more lively town. No people means no customers, Birna, you know that better than any of us!" Birna muttered something under her breath, and he continued. "We could use some proper defenses. A wall not only provides that, but it also makes us look more official. Solitude, Whiterun, Riften, all of them cities have walls. Make 'em big and give us plenty of room to build."

"Perhaps build walls one layer at a time?" mused Tolfdir. "Something for the current town, and leave gates for expanding later."

Thonjolf nodded. "I agree with Dagur, but the issue is that constructing such a wall will be very expensive and will take time."

"Indeed. Walls will be our next priority as soon as we have the means to do so," Kraldar stated. "We can still draw up some rough outlines of their placement. After that, we can decide to build some homes and storefronts to invite in trade. We should speak with my Thanes once they return, perhaps they have some suggestions."

"Don't they always?" Birna said to nobody in particular, though everybody chuckled. "But speaking of them, they drew my attention to something I could easily take care of, Jarl."

"What would that be, Birna?"

"Simply put," she began, "the guards' uniforms are not suited for this weather. They wear short sleeves and their helmets are not insulated with any kind of fur or leather. They're always cold!"

Kraldar blinked, and leaned his head out the door, looking at the guard posted by the entrance. He noted exactly what she was referring to. "I can't believe we never thought of that before, nor did Korir."

Birna nodded, remembering feeling slightly embarrassed something so obvious slipped her mind as well. "Now I've made some designs," she layed out a few papers with rough sketches of guards, varying styles on long-sleeved furs and refitted helmets with fur linings. "I'd need a little money to acquire the materials, as well as another trip to Whiterun, but these are all very simple to make."

"Of course. We'll discuss the exact amount after we're done here. But save the trip until we've made a proper list of anything else we may need soon," Kraldar decided.

"Yes, Jarl Kraldar."

"Tolfdir, anything from the college?"

The old mage shook his head. "No, Jarl Kraldar. We're as well stocked as ever and don't need anything at the moment. Savos has wished me to extend his offering of help in these projects, when they come about."

"Please offer him my thanks, and that we could certainly use all the help we can get. Are there any other immediate issues?" A round of shaking heads rippled from the gathered. "Very well. We will reconvene in three days time, earlier if something pressing comes up. Birna, stay and we'll talk about these uniforms…"

XxX

The trip from the temple to Solitude was uneventful. Aramen spent most of that time flailing about with Dawnbreaker, fighting imaginary enemies and getting accustomed to the feel of the blade. Mikael practiced creating illusions in the air, making small humanoid figures dance about. Lydia seemed amused by the act. Soon enough, they found themselves at the front gates around 10 in the morning and stepping inside, greeted by the sight of Roggvir's execution. They stopped to watch the scene unfold.

"They can't hurt uncle Roggvir. Tell them he didn't do it," Svari was telling Addvar.

"Svari, you need to go home," he told her with a gentle but firm push. "Go home and stay there until your mother comes." She looked confused, but dashed away all the same.

Vivienne snorted. "You should tell her that her uncle is scum that betrayed his High King. Best she know now, Addvar."

"You're all heart, Vivienne."

"You betrayed us!" "Get on with it!" "Traitor!" came several shouts from the audience.

Aldis stood alongside the bound man. "Roggvir. You helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape this city after he murdered High King Torygg. By opening the gate for Ulfric you betrayed the people of Solitude."

Ignoring the yells from Sorex, Roggvir spoke loudly. "There was no murder! Ulfric challenged Torygg. He beat the High King in fair combat. Such is our way! Such is the ancient custom of Skyrim, and all Nords!"

"Booooooo!" was his reply from the crowd.

Aldis simply moved into position and pushed the man down on the block.

Roggvir closed his eyes. "On this day… I go to Sovngarde."

The axe swung down, removing his head, cutting through the cord of the Amulet of Talos he wore on his neck. Aldis nudged the body off the block with his foot.

"Some gate guard you were!" "I think I expected more…" "Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say." "It shouldn't have been like this…" "Damn shame, Rogg. You were a good man," came voices from the crowd as they dispersed. The Twins sighed, both reviewing what they knew about all this.

The Stormcloak Rebellion of Skyrim. During the Great War, Ulfric had been captured and interrogated by the Thalmor, specifically Elenwen, before learning who he was and how potentially important he could be. Ulfric escaped after that. When the Empire lost against the Aldmeri Dominion, Ulfric Stormcloak had held bitter resentment in his heart, believing the Empire surrendered too easily.

The next major event for Ulfric had been the Markarth Incident, where Ulfric promised to help clear out Markarth from the invading Reachmen; a tribe of Bretons that lived in the hills and followed a more primal lifestyle. In return, The father of Jarl Igmund promised to allow Talos worshipping in the Hold of Reach. Which Ulfric did successfully with his militia and his Thu'um. The Reachmen became the Forsworn, and Ulfric left some of his men behind to keep Markarth safe from them coming back or harassing the people of the Reach. Free worship of Talos went ahead as promised. That was, until the Empire came knocking to stop that. Despite there being chaos and death in the city, Ulfric refused the Empire entry unless they promised to keep the free worship. The Empire, wanting to help the people inside, reluctantly agreed despite knowing the Aldmeri Dominion would not be happy. Which eventually lead to the Dominion putting pressure on the Empire to ban it once more and boot out Ulfric and his men and imprison them, which they accomplished with the aid of Hrolfdir, the aforementioned father of the Jarl. The betrayal permanently turned Ulfric's attitude against the Empire. Hard to blame him there, but honestly, what did he expect would happen? The Elves would just leave him be? Probably the point where he decided that rebellion might be the way to go.

During his prison time, Ulfric's father croaked and he returned home to take the seat of Jarl. Soon after, the previous High King Istlod also bit the dust and a Moot was called to pick the next. Ulfric had been particularly lippy and loud about his opinions on the Empire, the Thalmor, and Skyrim's independence. At the end of the Moot, the former High King's son Torygg was picked to be the next ruler.

About 25 years after the Markarth Incident, Ulfric had gathered enough men and political clout that he came knocking on the Blue Palace's door and challenged Torygg to a duel. Torygg himself was a very decent man that respected Ulfric Stormcloak and his desire for an independent Skyrim, and may have even followed the man into battle against the Aldmeri Dominion if asked, though Torygg was not a fool and knew that with the current state of the Empire, they couldn't defeat the Dominion, nor did he want the Empire that Tiber Septim built fall apart. Despite knowing that he would not win, even without knowing of Ulfric's Thu'um abilities, Torygg went to his death in the duel against Ulfric. His spirit in Sovngarde tells the player that his last and only regret was widowing Elisif.

Honestly, if the whole duel had been handled differently, this entire war could have been avoided. If they had agreed to make the duel public in an open area for all to see, maybe even giving it a week for representatives of the different Holds to come witness, then maybe there wouldn't be people claiming it was just murder or an assassination. If Ulfric had held back to allow Torygg a chance to actually fight instead of stunning him with a Shout and stabbing him, allowing a more proper duel to have taken place, maybe it would have felt less like a slaughter. If Ulfric had left the man alive and made him surrender, he may have even gotten the seat of High King without a hitch and with Torygg backing him, giving Ulfric even more power. If the two had just bloody sat down and talked…

This, among many other reasons, was why the Twins did not like Ulfric Stormcloak. He risked the entirety of Skyrim and a good chunk of the Empire because he couldn't pull his head from his ass. Certainly, the man had good points regarding the face that a High King should be stronger than his people, about how he respects his parents' legacies and wants to do them proud, and how he very much dislikes wasting the lives of his men and how that will impact their families. But all of this does not make up for the fact that he was wholly incapable of seeing the bigger picture.

Is it wrong to hate a person who had no free will in his actions? Ulfric, like everyone else in Skyrim, were just story fluff and words on a wiki page before the Twins showed up in their world, a world that made them real and gave them the power to decide their lives. Bethesda wrote the man, he didn't have a choice to do what he did. But he was who he was, and didn't seem likely to change, he still was a problem that needed solving.

Both Twins shook their heads, preventing themselves from going on a rant about his other failings.

If the player wanted to, they could pretty much ignore the war entirely. The entire war would be held at a standstill until they interfered with one side or the other. They prayed that such would be the case here, as it had been for long already. The last thing they needed was to be on the clock regarding the whole civil war. Their desire was peace through treaty, not domination from one side or the other. But they wouldn't be able to pull that off without _serious_ backing from many of the Jarls, Elisif, and the general public. All of that would take time.

Adlis and Ahtar the executioner made their way down the steps. The Twins both shared a look and moved forward into the city. They gave Noster a couple gold and agreed to grab the man's helmet when they got the chance.

"Lydia, would you be so kind as to sell off the loot from the temple? Also, pick up some non-perishable cooking ingredients. Then book us all some rooms at the Inn. After that, you can take the rest of the day off. We'll meet you there. We'll be busy up here for a while," Mikael requested as the two Bretons dug out said loot from their packs and gave it to her.

"Of course, my Thanes."

Nodding, they parted ways, with the Twins heading up to Beirand's blacksmith shop. Aramen greeted the man. "Excuse us, sir, might we make use of your forge for a while? We'd be happy to pay," he put his hand to a small pouch holding 50 septims.

Beirand considered for a moment. "I suppose it couldn't hurt. My orders are done for today. Just be careful not to misplace anything."

"Of course," Aramen promised while handing over the money.

"Also, I'd like to buy 10 ingots of steel, 5 ingots of iron, 2 elven, 1 dwemer, about 10 logs of firewood, and some leather strips, if you have any," Mikael continued.

"18 ingots, eh? Quite the project you must be working on. That and the rest will run you about 2500 septims."

"Come now, with as many as you have here? It wouldn't be more than 2000."

"I still need materials for my next projects. 2300."

"2150, and we'll throw in this," Mikael hoisted a steel club he had found in the temple and kept, originally intending to melt it down.

"Hmmm," Beirand pondered, but then caught sight of the sword on Aramen's back, jewel gleaming and glowing. "By Ysmir…" he breathed. "What is that blade?"

The Twins glanced at each other, before Aramen unsheathed it and presented it before the blacksmith. "This is Dawnbreaker. She's very good at dealing with undead."

"I'll give you the materials for 2000 and you let me take a look at that sword."

Mikael gave a questioning look to Aramen, who shrugged. "So long as you stay here while examining it. I'll not have you leaving our presence with it."

"Deal!" The man hastily grabbed the ingots and leather, dropping them into Mikael's arms, gestured to where the wood lay, then gently took the blade from Aramen, rushing over to his workbench with it. The brothers looked at each other and sighed. They wondered if the man would be so eager to handle it if he knew it was a daedric artifact. "Well, there goes pretty much all our money until Lydia comes back from selling off the loot."

"This goes right, it'll be well worth it. Here, let me sketch out the designs…"

* * *

Two days later, at about 8 in the morning, Lydia had been bored and worried. Despite her body wanting rest, she would not until her Thanes had arrived. She spent about an hour selling and buying things from the market and came away with about 400 septims after her purchases. With her spare time, she decided to take a walk around town, familiarizing herself with the layout. She had never been to the capital before, and so was naturally quite curious. She stopped briefly by Castle Dour to view their training area, seeing it well furbished. Lydia considered the bustling town around her and thought of how her Thanes wanted to make Winterhold into such a place, and the thought made her smile. Though Whiterun was her home, all of Skyrim was as well, and she would be happy to see a better life for more people. Often during her time there, she had wondered what her life would have been like if she had been born into such a hopeless place, and it made her glad that she had such a caring family.

She sighed. Currently, she was sitting at a table in the Winking Skeever. She had arrived last night, assuming the Thanes would be along shortly, given the late hour. But yet they still had yet to arrive, and she was beginning to worry. Corpulus had come up to her and informed her that Aramen had left a message, telling her they'd be up late and to get some sleep. Lydia was reluctant, but did so. The next day, she wanted to come up and visit the forge to see how they were doing, but Beirand had been heading down the hill and told her they didn't want to be disturbed. She spent the remainder of that day outside the walls, exercising and hunting. She caught three foxes and promptly sold them for some more septims. Going to sleep that night, she had been tired but still restless, wondering what her Thanes were getting on with.

It was now morning. She had long since finished her food and had simply been staring around the empty room. She decided that it was best to go check on them, see if they were alright. As she stood and reached for the door, however, it swung open, revealing the two Bretons, looking haggard. Mikael was the first to recognize her face, his eyes bleary.

"Ah, hey, Lyd. Sorry, hope we didn't worry ya. 'Scuse us," he mumbled as he stumbled through the door, followed similarly by his brother.

"Bartender, get us some food. I don't care what." Aramen tossed some coins on the counter. Corpulus picked them up and produced some bread, meat, and mead without missing a beat. Aramen nodded and carried it over to the table Lydia had been sitting at, where Mikael had all but collapsed into the chair.

"My Thanes, are you alright? You both look very worn out."

"S'cuz we are," Aramen slurred.

"Bloody spent seven hours drawing and redrawing those fuckin' designs, instructions, and notes," Mikael said to nobody, staring at his food. "Hunched over a table covered in papers."

"Then it was making the goddamn things, having to tweak and tweak and tweak and shift and alter and mmgrlfrglgrr," Aramen just continued complaining into his bread. He chewed it slowly and swallowed. "My eyes are burning from staring at the forge for hours and I reek of smoke. Both our backs are killing us."

"And then fitting all the damn strings, all those leather pieces, making springs, fitting pieces together, pulling tension, carving wood, experimenting to find exactly what thickness made the proper tones…" Mikael picked up his goblet with shaky hands. "My hands are numb. Gods help me if I got attacked in my sleep, I wouldn't be able to cast even a light."

"Fuuuuuuuck those experiments," Aramen moaned. "Working with unfamiliar metals is a bitch. And making them thin enough without snapping…"

"Still need to pick up some stuff from the stables later," Mikael reminded him.

"At least that will be the easy part."

"Yeah."

"Beirand kinda got pissed at us for making noise when he was trying to sleep, too," Aramen told Lydia. "But at least we got it in the end."

"Funny how it sounds slightly different. Better, I think, but still different," Mikael commented idly. "Still, we may need to do some metal-mixing if we want more."

"No bloody aluminum, no copper… and nylon?"

"That's alchemy. Bugger me sideways. That's a project for another day. Another year."

Lydia watched the byplay with some confusion. "Forgive me, but what exactly were you working on? Is it some kind of weapon?"

Mikael had enough energy to grin. "If used in the right hands… or the wrong ones… yeah. But not the main purpose. We'll show you later. For now," he slammed back the mead with his brother following suit, cramming the rest of the food in their mouths. "M gonn gt fom sfleep. G'night Lyd."

"Night, Lyd," Aramen called as well. They both slumped and made their way to their rooms, passing out almost instantly. Lydia was unsure what to do, but decided that like with so many of their oddities, just to roll with it. She ordered another meal and sat back, relaxing. Maybe she'd go back into town later, before the two woke up.

XxX

Mikael woke up that morning with a very sore body. Grumbling, he tossed off the covers and stood up, popping his back. He scratched his face idly, and noticed his beard was getting longer again. Now; as a man's man, he had no problems with long beards, and fully intended to grow a truly Gandalfian beard one day. For now, however, he liked it very trim, so he set about the task of shaving once more. He conjured a fine, small blade, and spent the next ten minutes very carefully cutting the hairs down to just off his face. After that, he redid his white hair back into a ponytail. Rubbing his chin in satisfaction, he threw on his robes and headed downstairs.

Aramen followed a similar routine, sans keeping the beard. His face was clean-shaven, a quick healing spell fixing the minor cuts he got from using a custom-made steel razor months ago. A quick go on the sharpening wheel should fix it up easily. He did up his pitch-black hair with marbled white into another ponytail. After that, he donned his armor and stepped outside.

Lydia was sitting at the bar, having a quiet drink, despite the lively atmosphere of the late afternoon. The Twins walked in and tapped her on the shoulder. " _Andiamo,_ Lydia. Got to grab our stuff and be off to the Bard's College post-haste!"

"Of course," Lydia wasn't confused by the strange terms, having grown quite accustomed to understanding the gist of their jib. Including the word "jib".

* * *

After stopping by the stables and blacksmith, they had what they needed. It was quite an armful, or rather it would have been if Mikael hadn't used _Telekinesis_ to carry most of it. Toting several large and unknown metal and wooden objects through the streets certainly garnered a few odd looks, but they were easily ignored. Soon enough, they approached the front door of the Bard's College, which Lydia helpfully opened for them to carry and levitate their prizes in.

The Twins carefully stepped inside and placed down their belongings. Promptly, they were greeted by a High Elf with swept-back hair, a braided beard, pointed ears, and a musical lilt to his voice. They knew this man to be Viarmo.

"Welcome to the Bard's College. I am the headmaster here. How may I help you?" He asked kindly.

"You must be Viarmo," Mikael began. "I am Mikael Viator; this is my twin, Aramen Viator. And this is our travelling companion, Lydia." A slight bow and two nods were given. "We have come here today because we believe we have something that the college would be most interested in. We'd like to demonstrate them to you, if possible."

"Well, we would be more than happy to see what you have to offer," Viarmo said. "Why don't you come up to the hall and show us there?" He gestured up the stairs.

With a somewhat dejected sigh, they picked everything back up and followed him.

"Alright, let's try something a bit more… fun," they heard as they approached the hall. Inside were four other people already, listening to the woman behind the podium, Pantea. "Go ahead, Ataf."

A rather bland looking human stood up in the second row and drew his lute. " _Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead!"_

Pantea nodded. "That was better, Ataf. Add a bit of emphasis on 'Ragnar' and 'Red'."

The old woman, Inge, spoke up in the back. "Remember, it's your job to 'deliver' these songs. To excite the crowd. Draw them in and they will love you for it."

"This time, let's try 'The Age of Aggression'. I will demonstrate to the class." Pantea cleared her throat, drew her own lute, and began to sing. " _We drink to our youth, and to days come and gone. For the age of oppression is now nearly done."_ The Twins rather enjoyed her singing, she had a good voice. She set down her lute. "You see, all you need is a bit of spirit and any song can be made into a classic."

"Wise words, if ever I heard," Mikael said from the doorway. The gathered bards turned to face the trio. "Good day, ladies and gentlemen."

"Headmaster, who are these three? New students?" Pantea asked.

"Sadly, no. This is Mikael Viator, Aramen Viator, and Lydia. They're here to, as they say, demonstrate some things for us." Viarmo responded.

"Then by all means, the stage is yours," Pantea graciously offered, though Inge scoffed in the back.

"We have no interest in hearing your half-baked singing, strangers. If you were actual bards, then perhaps we'd be more interested." The old woman stated rudely.

"Please, allow us to prove you wrong," Aramen said firmly. He and Mikael took the stage. "For you see; we are no bards, we are _musicians._ We are here to show you music you have never experienced before." Murmurs broke out from their audience. "My twin and I are from a very distant land, and we were quite upset to discover that you only seem to use three instruments for your music; that being the flute, the lute, and the drum." Nods were seen, still with curious faces. "Well, we have quite the demonstration for you today." He nodded to Mikael. "Behold! The violin!"

Hours upon hours of uninterrupted work, which would have been more if not for the "downloaded" knowledge they had both grabbed at the start of the game, had netted them a neat pile of instruments. Aramen knew blacksmithing better than anyone, and Mikael had actually been a music major in his previous life, but it had still been hell to create them. They had to account for the fact that they did not have access to traditional materials for modern instruments, such as nylon or aluminum. It had been an experimenting process to determine which metals would hold the tensile strength of the strings they needed and still produce the proper sounds, as well as the metals' effects for making a brass helped, as alteration went hand in hand with crafting, which expedited the whole deal. The work they accomplished in the time they had was remarkable, yet still limited. They wanted to get more, get even crazier with mutes and attachments and whatnot, but they figured they should take it slow. Culture shock and all that.

Mikael took the bow and drew it across the strings of the violin skilfully, watching the reactions of the crowd. They were surprised to say the least. He then launched into a slow, waltz-like piece, fingers moving up and down the neck. After about a minute, he stopped, which was swiftly followed by applause, to which he gave a small bow.

"The violin is one of the higher-pitched instruments of the violin family. It functions by drawing the bow, strung with the hairs from the tail of a horse, across the strings. The strings themselves can be made of different metals, which we have done here, or from sheep guts, dried and stretched," Aramen explained, then gestured to his brother. Mikael set it down and grabbed another instrument, this time…

"This is a cello, from the same family of stringed instruments, but lower. Lower than even this is the bass, but we do not have that today." He drew the bow across once more, demonstrating the lower sound. "The advantage of the cello is its' much larger note range due to the length of the neck of the instrument, and is thus more versatile. Though, as you can see, it is also much less mobile." He played a faster, more grim sounding tune this time, akin to a creature hunting its' prey at night. Once finished, more applause followed. "Both can also be employed as more rhythmic instruments with plucking, similar to a lute, but that is not their primary purpose."

Aramen picked up the next instrument, allowing Mikael to explain. "This is the trombone. From the brass family of instruments, sound is generated by the musician shaping their mouth in the proper embouchure and practically spitting the wind out, relying on the vibrations of the lips, much different than a flute." Aramen puckered his mouth to demonstrate, then played a sustained note. "To change notes, rather than covering holes like one would with a flute, the length of the instrument is manipulated to change the sound." Aramen held a note again, pushing out the slide, causing the note to go deeper. He then played a short, jazzy tune that swung the notes around the measures. He placed it down and picked up another.

"This is a trumpet. In order to have a larger note range in such a small instrument, the 'length' of the instrument is artificially shortened or lengthened by allowing the tubes to have air pass through them." Aramen pointed at the many long tunnels of metal that comprised the trumpet. "By pressing on these pistons, it will allow a hole in the tubing where air can pass through." And hadn't that been a bitch and a half all on its' own. Springs didn't really exist as far as they were aware, and so they had to spend a while trying to mix metals together to create some and give it the proper bounciness required. "As you can hear, brass instruments also tend to be much louder due to their bell. In our homeland, brass instruments are often used to announce royalty or to play rallying songs for soldiers." Aramen demonstrated such by playing 'Reveille'. Applause followed, and Mikael smirked. "That particular song was used to wake up soldiers from their beds every morning."

Aramen bent over and grabbed a much smaller piece this time, merely several metal bars on a rack. "This is the glockenspiel. It is part of a family of percussion instruments, a 'brother' of the marimba, which is the same as this, only much larger and made of wood. Each metal bar is tuned to a single note, and by hitting them with a small mallet like so," Aramen tapped an F note. "While not commonly used as a solo instrument, the glockenspiel can be an integral part of a band, adding that extra bit of personality to a song." Mikael picked up the violin again, playing a happy day sort of song, which was punctuated by strikes of the glockenspiel. Finished, applause, moving on.

Aramen took over explaining once more as Mikael sat down and scooted over to their final showcase of the day. "Finally, we have the harp. A string instrument much like the lute, relying on plucking the strings to make sound. But like the glockenspiel, each string only plays one note, rather than each string being pressed on to change notes." Mikael strummed a few notes before easing into a serene and soothing song so sumptuous some swear such sounds sorcery.

Once Mikael finished, the entire gathered college stood and gave a loud applause, including Inge. Viarmo came up to the stage and shook their hands.

"My boys, I've been headmaster of this school for twenty years, and I've never seen anything like what you've just showed us," the Altmer said with a tear in his eyes. "The beauty of their unique sounds and form, why I almost mistook those 'brass' instruments for Dwemer work! I cannot thank you enough for showing us what amazing music there lay outside the borders of Skyrim." He wiped his eyes, and his face turned more serious. "Please, would the two of you be interested in joining the Bard's College? We would be more than happy to have you here." His sentiment was followed by many of the students.

Mikael shook his head. "I'm afraid we cannot. For though we are musicians," _even though Aramen cheated and got all his music knowledge from the download,_ Mikael thought privately, "we are not interested in being students. We would, however, be interested in discussing some business with you. If we may adjourn…?"

"Of course, of course," Viarmo assured them. "But first, one more round of applause for these fine gentlemen!" Cheers and and clapping rose again as they gathered their instruments and proceeded downstairs into a bedroom, presumably Viarmo's. They shut the door behind them, Lydia staying outside, but still able to hear.

"Headmaster Viarmo, we wish to spread the joy of this music and these instruments to the people of Skyrim," Aramen began, and the High Elf nodded with a smile on his face. "Unfortunately, we are but humble men without a grand name or resources of a musical school to back us. So what we propose is this…" He nodded to Mikael, who produced a large ream of papers from his bag. "We will sell these instruments to you, as well as the designs, playing techniques, maintenance recommendations, the note positionings for each instrument, and a few other tips. Sadly, we do not have the time to teach you how to play each instrument, but from what you've heard you should be able to tell when you get it down right. We would sell you the right to create more of these and sell them as well, and we would part of the payment. This does not include instruments used by the college for training purposes. And we promise to come to you in the future with more instruments and sell them through you as well."

Viarmo could hardly believe it. It seemed as though the divines shined upon him today, and he was overjoyed with every word. With this, the Bard's College could see a new dawn of music. "I would be very honored and pleased to accept this deal. Shall we speak of the particulars?"

"As a matter of fact, we just so happen to have a few contracts here…" Mikael said with a grin.

* * *

Tolfdir sighed as he finally sat down, his old bones creaking ever so slightly. Trips back and forth into town were taking their toll, but it was good to be able to walk around and see smiles on the people's faces instead of disdain or fear. He pulled some food towards him and tried to relax.

"...I'm telling you, I have no idea where they get these ideas, but they've given me more to think about in two months than my last decade of studying." Tolfdir heard the voice of Phinis from upstairs. "When posed the quandary of permanent Conjuration, they questioned why not to intentionally shift one's Magicka from summoning into creation. An answer so obvious I found myself struck silent!"

"Seems that it would be much more taxing, wouldn't it?" Sergius responded.

"Indeed, but still very feasible. And not of as fine a quality as hand crafted from more mundane means, I should think. But what about you?"

"Ah, well; I had a fine conversation with Mikael about Enchanting. He seemed to be very skilled in its' usage, but did not know many patterns. As if he had trained for years to do it, but simply forgot the specific weaves. He does, however, put me off occasionally."

"Speak your mind, Sergius."

"Occasionally, while practicing, he would look at a few of the cheap rings and the enchanting table, then laugh very… malevolently."

"Hmm, yes. Well, nothing we all haven't done once before."

Tolfdir chuckled to himself, many fond memories of new and exciting magical spells being exchanged between colleagues and the laughs they shared then.

It was around this point that Ancano marched in, looking as opinionated as ever. The High Elf spotted the old Alterer and scoffed. "Returned from kissing the feet of the Jarl, Tolfdir?"

"You dismiss the man too lightly, Ancano," Tolfdir said with an air of warning. "He is our Jarl, and we are his subjects. He seeks only what is best for us. It is important that we try to bridge the gap that has opened between us and the town for so long. You could come to town with us sometime, sit and have a drink at the inn."

"I'd rather stay here and put my mind towards something worth my time," he replied imperiously. "Honestly, if they had anything interesting to say, then they would come here to say it. Our College is far more impressive than a threadbare tavern."

"Not _your_ College, Ancano. You are an advisor, not a student or teacher."

The Thalmor merely huffed and stalked off, nose high in the air.

Ancano seemed to be getting more and more irritable since the arrival of the Twins. Tolfdir had seen the man enough to know that he was getting worse. The Twins seemed to dismiss the man entirely, never engaging in conversation or practicing or studying with him nearby. Ancano seemed to take this as an insult, and had constantly attempted to both discredit them and learn more of what they knew. Often had he been heard quietly ranting about them, or lingering in the Hall of Elements when they were there. Tolfdir suspected the man to be jealous. He had not taken part of any of the rebuilding projects or offered assistance, but that seemed to suit the two Bretons just fine.

Tolfdir had just gotten back from another meeting with the Jarl and the townsfolk. Nothing new had been discussed this time, just reviewing their current plans and ideas. The gifts to the other holds had been sent out this morning, but everything else seemed to be on hold while they waited for the two Thanes, his students, to return.

Just thinking of the odd twin Bretons brought a smile to his face. Aramen and Mikael were not the most… orthodox students, but they were undoubtedly the sharpest and most dedicated the College had seen in recent centuries. They absorbed lessons like a sponge, faster than anyone else did. Often, they seemed to be three steps ahead of the rest of their peers, and as such had taken to lengthy individual sessions with some of the staff, he himself included. They often had strange ways of approaching theory and conjecture on magical subjects. They had posed the question of why no one had ever thought of using water or earth more as magical bases more than oakflesh and the like. Tolfdir had turned the question over in his mind and was starting to see some potential with them, if he spent some time pursuing them.

"Something troubles you?"

Tolfdir turned his gaze upwards, his wool-gathering having distracted him from noticing Mirabelle approach the table. She sat down and set a small plate of food in front of her, beginning to eat.

"Ah, nothing, Mirabelle. Just thinking on our more promising students," he stated with a smile. Though she was not particularly close with anyone save the Arch-Mage, she was the Master Wizard and a diligent teacher.

"Indeed, they can be… vexing. They have come to me several times for conversation and theory discussion. They ask much."

"A fine quality to be found in any student."

"I can see them easily becoming teachers themselves here in a couple decades, once they've truly explored the depths of magicka," Mirabelle continued. "Arch-Mage Savos has expressed a desire to quicken their education."

Tolfdir nodded. "If only to keep up with their pace. Those boys will go far, I am sure. Who knows what marvelous new spell they're creating or interesting adventure they must be on right now."

* * *

"Uuuuuurrrrgg." The groan came in stereo. Aramen's came from halfway on the bed, Mikael's from face down on the rug.

After finalizing the contract, they had walked away with a not inconsiderable amount of septims. The Bards college was not a rich institute, but they were given quite a bit and with rough estimates of their expected income from future sales. All in all, it wasn't enough to fund any of their real expansionist ideas for Winterhold, but they hadn't expected it to be. So, with their first major business transaction completed (they didn't count the one with Birna; this was with an accredited institute of learning rather than a single woman in a shop, after all), they went back to the Winking Skeever and proceeded to get bombed out of their brains, which Lydia politely bowed out of after the first few drinks, stating that she wanted to be sober enough to watch out for them. After an hour of heavy drinking, they were dancing through the bar, each casting some minor spell effects to dazzle a drunken crowd, drunkenly singing "Drunken Sailor". After about two hours, they were hammered enough to be sleepy, and so they stumbled back to Aramen's room, Mikael by mistake, and immediately passed out.

Aramen in particular looked very uncomfortable. "This is why you're not meant to sleep in your armor… Jesus, I'm sore."

"Ffrglmrpher," was the succinct reply by his robed and lightly armored kin.

"You're right; we've been neglecting that. when we get back to Whiterun, we'll take care of it."

"Mth tslk dth nd fet"

"Mine too," Aramen agreed, smacking his lips, wanting a drink to wash away the taste.

"Frgn tmsit?"

Aramen turned to the window, instantly regretting it as bright light pierced his eyes with unholy pain. "Little before midday. Best get heading out."

Mikael rolled onto his side. "Yyyyeeeaaah… let's see how well healing spells work for hangovers, eh?" His hands were already glowing as he held them to his pounding head.

A few minutes of that, and they were both more or less alright. "You know, if more Nords knew that healing magic could cure a hangover, they'd probably be kinder to mages," Aramen commented as he stretched. "Can't do much for the dry mouth, though. Let's grab some water and breakfast. Busy day ahead." Mikael lifted himself off the floor, fixed his robes and hair, and nodded.

XxX

 **As promised, a swifter chapter than before. Been getting back into the swing of it. Mon frere et moi have been working hard on the upcoming chapters, which turned out longer than we expected and had to be cut into pieces. I know some fics that go 20k+ per chapter, and damn I admire those people. That's not in the foreseeable future for this story, sadly. Maybe some day... *wistful sigh*.**

 **Anyways, please comment and stay tuned for more!**

 **-Waki Paki.**


	10. Chapter 10

After their hearty breakfast (bread, mutton, and water), the trio took to the streets and headed for the Blue Palace. As they passed by the Bard's College, the Twins paused. After a moment's concentration, they could just hear the sounds of blaring instruments from inside the building, causing them to chuckle.

"Reminds me of when I first started learning," Mikael said in fond remembrance.

"When was that, my Thane?" Lydia asked curiously.

"When I was around 12 or so…" the taller Breton began. "Our homeland had very advanced educational systems - depending on who you talked to - but we were in schooling since we were but 6 years old. Some started lessons then, but I was not pushed into such teachings. When we were in middle school - the second of three primary schoolings for children - I picked up learning an instrument called the saxophone. Having a bit of trouble finding a key piece to make that here. Anyways, I loved music so much I pursued it the rest of my life until around when we came here. Had to pick up a bow and arrow instead of a bow and violin." He laughed at his own lame joke, Aramen threw a pebble at his head, but picked up where he left off.

"The music on our- er, in our homeland is very different than from here, partly because there's so many instruments. Plenty of folk songs and such, but…" Aramen trailed off as he thought about what he was saying.

How do you explain color to the blind, sound to the deaf? You can explain the science of it; light refracting off matter and waves vibrating at specific frequencies, but for all the explanation the person still won't really _get_ it. It was the same thing here. How can you explain to a pre-industrial society that until just yesterday only had three instruments to utilize for their musical creativity the feel of Jazz? Hip-hop? Rock and roll? Metal? Ska? Polka?

You can't. You just have to let it speak for itself.

"...Let's just say that there's a lot of different music for every taste and leave it at that."

"Then this fucker here managed to pick up instruments a thousand times more quickly than me for _some reason_ and make me feel like I wasted a lot of time," Mikael groused, shooting a knowing look at his brother, who shrugged with a smirk.

"Hindsight is 20/20."

"Twenty twenty?" Lydia questioned again, confused.

The Bretons groaned. "Nevermind. It would take forever to explain," Aramen replied. "Besides, we're here."

And indeed they were there, standing at the front door of the Blue Palace. Mikael stepped forward and opened it, then gave an exaggerated bow and held it for them. Aramen chuckled and gave a mock bow in return, then stepped inside, followed by an amused Lydia.

Sunlight streamed in from the windows of the entry room, gleaming slightly off the brassy-looking chandelier and illumination the classy interior. Ivy of some kind hung from many of the walls, and plants were plentiful in pots positioned all about. The air smelled of green and candle smoke. Honestly; for a palace, it was fairly modest. Not all that big, nor was it covered wall-to-wall in flags or great paintings. It was more of a manor home than palace, and not exactly defensible. Though that was what Castle Dour was for.

Unbidden, both twins' eyes swept over to the door that led to the Pelagius Wing. They shuddered. What lay behind that door was something that they readily embraced many games over, but to see it in person and know the weight of what was there… and how would he react to their whole unusual being? They were anomalies. They shouldn't _be_ here. Granted, that sort of thing was right down that man's alley, but that was the thing; they had no idea what to expect. It was laughable to think a being that powerful wouldn't notice something off about them and act on it. Though they would have certainly liked to meet him, and ask many questions, it was far too dangerous. With that shared thought in mind, the Twins moved on.

They walked up the stairs to see the court convening. A man in plain clothes stepped forward.

"I swear to you, unnatural magics are coming from that cave! There are strange noises and lights! We need someone to investigate!" Varnius Junius looked a bit shaken, likely from both the cave he referred to and that he was directly speaking with what was essentially royalty.

Jarl Elisif the Fair sat in her chair differently than every other Jarl; that is to say, she sat up straight rather than slouched with her head in one hand, giving her full attention to the man before her. She nodded concisely. "Then we will immediately send out a legion to scout the cave and secure the town. Haafingar's people will always be safe under my rule."

"Your eminence," Sybille Stentor, the court mage, cut in somewhat rudely, "my scrying has suggested nothing in the area. Dragon Bridge is under imperial control. This is likely superstitious nonsense."

The Twins held in a snort. _Your scrying must not be very good to miss something as big as this._

Actually, this line of dialogue always struck the Twins as odd since there was no mention of any kind of divination style magic in the game aside from the Psijic Order, the Augur of Dunlain, Elder Scrolls themselves, and the aforementioned missing _Clairvoyance_ spell, all of which were anomalies and story points rather than a tangible facet of the established magic system in the game. The College didn't touch on the subject at all, though they had never really asked, either. Perhaps there was more to this scrying business than seemed? Something to bring up when they return to Winterhold, anyways.

Falk Firebeard cleared his throat. "Perhaps a more… tempered reaction… might be called for?"

Jarl Elisif blinked. "Oh. Yes, of course you are right." She seemed to collect herself. "Falk, tell Captain Aldis to assign a few extra soldiers to Dragon Bridge."

"Thank you Jarl Elisif," Varnius said gratefully, but still not encouraged. "But about the cave…"

"I will have someone take care of the cave as well Varnius, you can rest easy. You're dismissed," Falk states with authority.

Varnius nodded and turned around, a slight frown on his features. The rest of the court went back to what they were doing.

Elisif the Fair. Widow to the late High King, she was the obvious choice for the next Jarl of Solitude, as well as the next choice for High Queen. However, as they knew from playing the game and reading the wiki, Elisif was not exactly leadership material. She was kind and had a good heart, but she had next to no experience as a leader and thus relied heavily on the Empire. Were she to become Queen, she would be little but a puppet for the Empire. While the Twins personally didn't have a problem with the Empire, only the Thalmor, that still makes her a poor ruler. Ulfric was right in that regard; The High King must be a true warrior and leader. They must command respect. Elisif… can't. She sends most her problems to her steward, relies on the advice of the court rather than making her own decisions, and was essentially a placeholder. She needed to either be whipped into shape or step aside for someone more capable.

The Twins motioned for Lydia to stay back while they approached Falk Firebeard, who took in the appearance of the two mismatched Bretons with a discerning eye. "Do you have business with the court?"

"Yes, we do." Mikael gave his trademark slight bow, with Aramen inclining his head. "I am Mikael Viator, and this is my twin Aramen Viator. We would like to offer our assistance regarding Wolfskull Cave."

"You mean the Dragon Bridge issue?" he said with some surprise. "I'll be honest with you, I was planning to let that go. Varnius is a bit jumpy at the best of times. There have been reports of weird happenings near Wolfskull Cave. Travellers disappearing, odd lights. I suspect wild animals or perhaps bandits." Falk shook his head. "I don't think it's worth our time with the war going on, but if you want to clear out the cave, I'll make sure you're repaid for your work."

"Certainly, we'd…" Mikael trailed off as he noticed a courier come up the stairs. It was noteworthy because he wore a shirt with the symbol of Winterhold on it, and he carried a crate on his back. He noticed the Twins. "Ah! Hello, Thanes."

"Hello there," Aramen replied with a frown. "Didn't know we had couriers hired yet. Package for us?"

"No, Thanes, this is from Jarl Kraldar to Jarl Elisif."

The Twins considered it for a moment and came to the conclusion that Kraldar was likely sending out gifts as a sort of peace offering. A smart move.

"Well," the steward interrupted, "best get on with the delivery, eh?" Falk turned to Elisif. "My lady, you have someone here to see you."

"A courier? Come forward," she stated.

The man scuttled forward. "Uh, greetings, Jarl Elisif. I come directly from Jarl Kraldar of Winterhold, who was recently appointed. He sends a greeting and well wishes to you, as well as these gifts," he pulled the crate off his back and opened it. "He sends five pounds of salt and six potions of Cure Disease. Jarl Kraldar wishes your reign be like the gifts he sends; kept well and healthy for a long time."

Kraldar didn't seem like the poetic sort, so they figured that little bit of speech was likely Thonjolf's doing. Still, it was effort and care and it meant something that a supposedly struggling town could muster supplies like this to send as a welcome basket, and the court knew it. Whispers broke out among them gathered people.

"Oh! Well, thank you," Elisif was taken quite off guard. Nonetheless, she gestured and Falk came to take the box from the courier. "Please send Jarl Kraldar my thanks, and that I send my sincerest hope that Winterhold thrives under his care."

As she spoke, Sybille came over to Falk and spoke quietly. "I'll have to test these potions. Make certain they're not poison."

Firebeard nodded. "Do so."

"Falk," Jarl Elisif called. "Please send a returning gift, some fresh fruit and vegetables."

"Yes, Jarl," he replied immediately. The courier nodded nervously in response, recognizing his dismissal to wait. Falk turned and raised an eyebrow at the Twins. "Heard something about Winterhold changing a lot recently. Thanes, hm?"

"We can't take all the credit," Mikael said with a smile. "The townsfolk were just looking for the right people to give them a hand. Things will continue to get better so long as they work for it now that Korir's gone."

"Never really liked him," Falk commented. He gave a moment's thought. "You two are alright in my book. Good hunting in Dragon's Bridge."

They nodded and turned around, walking up to the courier.

"Hey, can you take a message back to Birna?" Aramen asked.

"Of course," he said promptly.

"Tell her…"

* * *

Travelling back toward Wolfskull Cave was fairly easy, since Meridia's Temple was right about 100 yards away. Aramen in particular was excited about this quest, since it would give him ample opportunity to test out Dawnbreaker. The grin never left his face and by the time the party reached the cave entrance, he sprinted forward to meet the skeletons guarding it head-on.

The first skeleton barely had time to turn around before Dawnbreaker thundered into it, smashing it apart and causing the remains to burst into flames. Mikael cast a _Turn Undead_ at the remaining skeleton and caused it to flee, where Lydia picked it off with an accurate arrow shot.

"I'm liking this already." Aramen turned towards the cave mouth. "Let's get rolling."

The inside of the cave was fairly well lit, for all the spooky skeletal remains cast around. They considered the ledge to their right. The door lead to the tower across from the ritual tower. They knew they could easily climb up there and save themselves the trouble of having to work their way through the entire dungeon, but opted not to. Now was a perfect opportunity to put their skills to the test against some serious opponents and hone their skills. The mini-dungeons and caves they'd hit during their time in Winterhold had only served to maintain their skill level, not increase it. Better to do it properly… this time.

Down to the left they headed, Aramen easily decapitating the weak Draugr that charged them. Beyond that hall led to a more open space, where two female Necromancers sat in front of a fire, their backs to the trio.

Mikael gave them a signal to wait while he snuck up on them.

"...another one if we're lucky," one was saying.

"Need fresher corpses, that's for sure. Solitude won't do nothin' long as we don't get greedy."

"They won't know what's c- hey, hold it there!"

Mikael hadn't made it halfway to them before he was heard, and the two immediately leapt to their feet. Aramen's crossbow bolt struck one dead in the chest before she could raise a ward, but the other managed before Mikael could zap her. The remaining Necromancer flung an ice chunk at him, which he dodged and pulled his magic together for something new they'd been working on.

 _Stone shape_ was a fairly simple spell in the D&D universe, and Avatar displayed an amazing level of rock control from Earthbending. Mikael and Aramen had been working on magic similar to these, something that would let them conjure, control, and shape any rocky material. That in mind, he focused for a moment and ripped about eight pounds of rock from the floor under him and shaped it into a vaguely thin spear-like shape, hucking it at the woman.

The Necromancer was utterly surprised at what seemed like someone ripped stone out of the earth with their bare hands, and so did not have time to strengthen her ward before the javelin slammed through it and into her throat. She gurgled wetly with blood, then fell.

"First test, pretty well done if I do say so myself," Mikael commented as he looted her corpse, finding only some gold and her dagger worth taking.

"Lot easier than straight-up creating it, that's for sure." Aramen demonstrated by concentrating for a few moments before a fist sized stone appeared in his hand, which he tossed at his brother.

"I've never seen magic like that before," Lydia said with some wonder.

"It was surprising to us that no one had," Mikael told her. "A country full of mountains and cliffs and mines and whatnot and _nobody_ thought about the benefits of rock-focused magic?" He sighed. "Such a missed opportunity. Well, we're here now, so we'll fix it."

Lydia was about to reply when she heard a noise coming from beyond the door to their right and dropped into a crouch, followed by the Twins. They opened it and proceeded slowly with Aramen taking the lead. Mikael charged up a lightning bolt in his hand, while Lydia gripped her sword tightly. In front of them was a large open room with light streaming down from above, illuminating clearly a large pit. They heard the sound of quick movement, a sure sign they were noticed. Before they could run in, they saw the form of a Frost Atronach pop up to the right, while a Draugr Scourge stepped into the doorway, frost coiling around its' fist and gripping a one-handed sword in the other. A Necromancer behind it erected a ward.

Without hesitation, Aramen flying tackled the Scourge into the pit behind it, throwing them both down. Mikael launched his lightning at the skeleton across the pit and killed it instantly, and Lydia moved to engage the Necromancer, as she was closer than the Atronach.

Mikael threw a fireball at the cold creature, grabbing its' attention. It trundled towards him and he kept on pouring flames with he right hand while his left conjured a ward. The frosty summon swung sluggishly at him while he dodged until one blow smacked straight into his ward and staggered him. The Atronach followed up with a punch to the gut, knocking Mikael back off his feet.

Lydia swiftly charged in on the Necromancer, quickly getting inside her guard and bashing her in the face with her shield. The conjurer yelped in pain and shot sparks at Lydia, who took them with grim endurance, her shield acting as a conductor. When the spell stopped, she swung her sword in a wide arc and clipped the mage in her side, blood streaming down her robes. She scowled at Lydia, who gave a taunting smirk and pushed forward with her shield again.

It wasn't hard to make sure the Scourge landed on bottom, but Aramen still felt the impact drive air from his lungs for a moment. The undead had no lungs, and as such recovered instantly. It bashed him in the face with the hilt of its' sword and clambered to its' feet. Aramen rolled backwards and held Dawnbreaker in a diagonal form with the blade facing down to his right. He deflected the ice shot from the scourge easily and covered the ground between them in a second, stabbing right into the gut of the creature, who then burst into flames. The Draugr hissed something and tried to stab Aramen through the heart, but he jumped back, twisting slightly as he pulled out the daedric gift, leaving a gash in the monster.

Mikael had just gotten back on his own feet when his instincts screamed at him to roll, which let him just miss being brained by the cold golem and winding up behind it. He cast a quick heal to soothe the pain in his ribs and gathered the flames in his hand, burning them hotter and hotter until they turned blindingly light, then sent the flaming jet straight at the creature's skull, vaporizing the ice into steam, which swiftly disappeared, along with the Atronach.

Lydia got in close with the Necromancer again. The wizard panicked and threw a blind punch to defend herself, which the Nord capitalized on immediately. She moved on the inside of the punch, grabbing the woman's arm fully, turned so her back was to the conjurer's chest, then bent over and flipped the woman over her to the ground. Stunned, she could do nothing but watch as Lydia cleanly stabbed her through the heart.

Aramen was having fun. Dawnbreaker practically sang in his grasp as he carved up the Scourge, re-igniting the flames every time so much as a cut was made. The Draugr fought back hard, but the cold of the _Frost_ spell did little to deter him and a one-handed sword vs. a broadsword, enchanted no less, was an easy match for the Breton. Sadly, as much fun as it was, he knew there was more to be had elsewhere, and so sent an ice spike to the Draugr's foot, pinning it there. Its' hasty block was overpowered by Aramen's overhead slice, splitting the rotting skull of the creature in twain.

Lydia dutifully looted the corpse of the late witch and followed Mikael, who hit her with a _Healing Hands_ and carefully dropped into the pit. Mikael grinned at his twin. "Nice move with that rugby tackle. Good test run?"

Aramen's grin responded. "Damn skippy. Dawn here really enjoyed it. But let's get moving. Got more up ahead, no doubt." With that said, they proceeded down the tunnel that lead to Wolfskull Ruins.

* * *

The Twins were once again reminded of the reality of being in the Skyrim world rather than playing it as they watched the lightshow. Swirling energies flew around the wide cavern, focusing into a ball at the center above one of the towers. At the moment, they couldn't remember the story behind Wolfskull Cave or why there was a fortress down here, they only focused on the feeling of magic building in the air in front of them, acutely aware of its' intended purpose.

A woman's voice broke the hum of magic in the air. " _Wolf Queen, hear our call and awaken. We summon Potema!"_

" _We summon Potema!"_ Several voices echoed.

"By the gods…" Lydia said softly.

"Whatever this is, it can't be good. We need to stop it now," Mikael affirmed seriously. They hustled down corridor to their left.

" _Long have to slept the dreamless sleep of death, Potema. No longer. Hear us Wolf Queen! We summon you!"_

" _We summon Potema!"_

The party didn't pause in their stride as Mikael sent a lightning strike to the base of the skull of the Novice Necromancer in the next room. She was dead before she hit the ground.

At the top of the stairs ahead, Aramen leapt off and swung Dawnbreaker in a merciless arc, cleaving into the chest of the Draugr Wight. It reacted by punching at his face, which Aramen ignored and headbutted the creature with a crackle of lightning coming from his forehead. The Wight fell dead. The Necromancer that accompanied it spun swiftly to watch the spectacle, and was blindsided by Lydia running her sword through his neck.

They beat feet up the stairs and through the ruins, knocking aside the Draugr in front of them, letting it fall to its' death.

" _ **Yes! Yes! Return me to this realm!"**_ A loud, joyous, and commanding voice of a different woman shouted to the air. The Twins recognized it as Potema, and picked up the pace through the stone and rock halls of the ruins.

" _As our voices summon you the blood of the innocent binds you Wolf Queen!"_ The Ritual Master continued her chanting.

" _Summoned with words. Bound by blood,"_ the others chanted.

" _ **What! What are you doing?! You fools! You cannot bind me to your wills!"**_ Potema yelled in anger.

" _Summoned with words. Bound by Blood,"_ they repeated.

" _ **You ants don't have the power to bind me!"**_

Mikael dragged his left hand along the wall as they ran, slowly building up rock mass until they came to a Restless Draugr and an Adept Necromancer. Mikael gathered the eight pounds of earth into a spike and hurled it at the skull of the unsuspecting Draugr, cleaving its' head off, allowing Aramen and Lydia to quickly double-team and overpower the Necromancer as he tried to throw out ice shards.

"Something is wrong, there is an intruder," the Ritual Master said suddenly.

The other two weak Draugr came around the corner at them, but the Twins threw a _Push_ their way and blew them over the ledge.

Sweating and panting, they ran up the final flight of stairs, where the five gathered Necromancer stood, hands aglow with wards and cold. Luckily, they had planned for just such an event and settled for the same tactic they used not moments before.

" _FUS!"_ they shouted in unison, blasting the necromancers back off the ledge, just like the undead before them. For all their magical skill, they were completely unprepared for such a blast of force and thus toppled back over the edge, save for the chief Ritual Master herself, who slammed into the stone ledge with a cry of pain.

Breath would never reach her as a gloved hand seized her throat and pinned her to the wall. "You fucking maniacs. Trying to summon her? Nine help us if she were to set foot on this land again," Mikael's voice was deadly and low, Aramen standing behind him with a similarly dark expression. "Enjoy the planes of Oblivion in the afterlife." With that statement, his hand burst into flame. The Ritual Master batted weakly at his arm, cold streaming off her fingers, tears forming in her eyes before they evaporated from the heat. The magical hum in the air died and the lights went out of both the sky and her eyes.

Soon, Mikael let go. Her throat and jaw were blackened and charred. The stench of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. He looked over the ledge and saw the fallen corpses of the other Necromancers where they had died so unceremoniously. Aramen sidled alongside his brother, where they shared a look and a nod. Aramen tossed a fireball down onto them, watching them burn as well, ensuring they stayed dead.

Sheathing their weapons, the trio breathed a sigh of relief and sat down, catching their breaths.

"Fuck me sideways, that was hard," Aramen groaned, loosening his armor straps.

"Woulda been a dozen times worse if we hadn't had you here, Lydia. Nice damn work," Mikael said with a tired grin.

Lydia nodded appreciatively, drinking from a water canteen the Twins had given her back in Winterhold.

After a couple minutes rest, the part stood up. The two Bretons looked at the ritual circle made for Potema and decided to fuck with it. Aramen starting hucking the flaming bowls off the tower while Mikael stone-shaped the image of Potema into an incomprehensible mess, then stabbed it a few times with a conjured sword for good measure. Feeling satisfied with their work, they let out a laugh.

"Right. Time to loot and get back to Solitude. They'll want to know about this," Aramen stated aloud.

"Of course, my Thane."

"Too bloody right, bro."

* * *

It had been nightfall by the time they got back, and so they opted to get some sleep at the Winking Skeever. Friendly voices greeted them, the patrons having enjoyed their performance from last night, and even attempted goading them into a repeat. They begged off easily, however, when the people noticed the blood stains and cuts in the clothing that the trio had. They promised a similar show sometime in the distant future and got some rest.

The Twins headed to the Blue palace once again in the morning, handing off the valuable loot to Lydia for selling. They received a few looks for coming inside with clearly damaged clothing, but nobody said a word. A few guards gave them acknowledging nods, which they returned. Falk noticed them as they came up the stairs.

He got straight to the point. "You've returned. Good. What did you find at Wolfskull Cave?"

"Oh, not much," Mikael said offhandedly. "Just a bunch of draugr, skeletons, and necromancers attempting to summon and bind the Wolf Queen Potema to their wills."

A pin could have dropped in the room. The stunned silence blanketed the air.

"Potema herself?" Falk said in fear and awe. "Please tell me you stopped them."

Aramen put a placating hand up. "Not to worry. We killed them all, burned their corpses, and desecrated their ritual circle. Wolfskull Cave won't be a problem again, though I would caution you to keep an eye out for anything odd in the coming months." He gave a sideways look at Sybille, who was standing to Falk's right. "Scrying revealed nothing? Perhaps you should brush up on your divination." The court wizard huffed and turned away, but it was clear the thought settled with her, at least.

"You've done a larger service to the realm than you could possibly know. A resurrected Potema… I shudder at the thought." He shook his head. "Here is your reward. Spend it well, and know you have my gratitude for what you've done." Falk handed over a large coin purse and shook their hands.

"Should anything happen in the future, we would be happy to assist," Mikael assured him.

Elisif, who had been silently processing what she had just heard, caught Firebeard's eye and gave a motion. Falk looked back to the Twins. "Yes, there is something." He waved a hand to the Jarl.

The Twins approached her and both gave a formal bow, maintaining eye contact. "Greetings, Jarl Elisif. It is a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance," Mikael spoke with honesty and kindness. "Is there anything we may help you with?"

She took a breath. "There's something… personal… I was hoping you would do for me."

Innuendos and jokes came to mind, but Mikael beat those thoughts down. "You need only ask, milady."

"I heard what you did for us at Wolfskull Cave. I believe you two are someone I can trust." Elisif seemed hesitant, though not reluctant to continue. "As you may know, Talos worship is outlawed in the Empire. When we buried my husband I made offerings to all the gods… except Talos. I would like you to take an item of his, a warhorn handed down from his father, and place it at a Shrine of Talos."

"We would be honored," Aramen answered.

"Thank you. It would mean a lot to me." A small smile adorned her lips for a moment, before it fled. She handed them the warhorn, which Aramen placed carefully in his bag. It got him thinking about another horn they had a while back, but they left that in his room at the College. Still, the thought made him smile mischievously as they walked out.

* * *

"Just let us off here, that'll be fine."

The sun had just begun to rise when the carriage pulled to a stop by Halted Stream Camp, seeing a few guards notice get slightly tense, but calming when they recognized the thanes.

Something the Twins had mentioned to Jarl Balgruuf a while back was the fact that the mine was perfectly tenable now that it was clear of bandits, just needed a wash and some workers. They were glad to see he had taken their advice, and it seemed it was back in business.

They stopped here because they wanted to stretch their legs. The day and a half long carriage ride had afforded them plenty of time to relax and continue their spell experimentation, so they were ready to roll. Lydia had alternated between asking questions about their past and homeland and simply sitting in silence, occasionally laughing at the Twins' exuberance and antics. Their answers were carefully measured when delivered, but it felt nice to talk about their home, although with some pangs of sadness that they would never return.

They trodded along, passing Whitewatch Tower and soon came close to the Shrine.

"Time to go to work," Aramen declared, to which Mikael agreed. "Lydia, watch out for anyone coming. We'll need a couple minutes."

After they were done, and gulped down a few mana potions to rejuvenate, they stood back and admired their handiwork.

"So, who's going to be playing bait this time?" Mikael prompted.

"Well, you got caught pretty quick by those necromancers last time. I think it's best if I do the ambushing."

"I was the bait the last time we did this stunt, back at the camp!"

"And it worked out perfectly didn't it? Besides, I was bait for the dragon back at Whiterun."

"That is TOTALLY different, and you know it. Besides, _I_ was bait with Kvenel!"

" Come oooon. You really do make excellent bait." Aramen wheedled.

Mikael sighed. "Fiiiiiiiiiiiine," he whined, pulling the horn from Aramen's pack and trudging over to the shrine with a dejected slump in his shoulders. Lydia smirked and Aramen blew a raspberry at his brother.

Mikael approached the Shrine of Talos. Gently, he set down Torygg's War Horn and clasped his hands together, bowing his head. _This one's for you, mate. You did good. Hope Sovngarde is treating you well. Guess we'll see you later._ Mikael was slightly startled when he felt the Blessing of Talos hit him, as they had never actually prayed at a shrine yet since their arrival.

Mikael stayed standing there, head bowed, for about five minutes before he heard the sound of greaved footsteps behind him.

* * *

Agent Lorcalin was a proud member of his race. A High Elf of nearly 700 years, he had spent his life in service to his people, more recently the Thalmor, council of the Third Aldmeri Dominion. His father was the warden of Elder Root's prison, and often would he come home complaining of the "morally depraved filth" and "upstart animals" and "fools who associated themselves with the wrong sort" that he watched over. The older man passed on his firm belief in good breeding and quality of blood that strengthened the Aldmeri Dominion. Lorcalin's mother was a well-respected enchanter. She mainly enchanted weapons and armor for nobles and other high-profile individuals. In short, both of his parents were powerful and well connected. It was inevitable, with such high standards, that he would seek to exceed even them.

His youth was spent in training, learning the intricacies of magic and the skill of sword fighting. Once he was of age, he enlisted in the military, promising to become an illustrious soldier and become more famous than his parents.

He was there when the Summerset Isles fell to the Empire. How he had fought valiantly, slaying men by the score with fire and blade. To become a general just as the tide turned against them was, however, a damning instance of poor luck. Despite his success in holding the line on several occasions, he was still viewed as a failure because he could not turn the war around. Even his parents had looked at him differently, for all they claimed to still care for him. But he could see the disappointment in their eyes.

He had even gotten a chance to see Tiber Septim himself step onto the battlefield - something he did not care to recall.

And he was there to see as the pure, perfect culture of their Summerset Isles become tainted by the hand of men. The young were not content to listen to the wisdom of their elders - their betters. They viewed the hierarchy that had led them so clearly for generations as "rigid" and "strict". They were more willing to "adapt" to the world.

Fools, every last one of them. Idiot children who did not know the better time for their people, when Altmer acted properly and listened to their parents and respected traditions.

He was there when the Gates of Oblivion began appearing all across Tamriel. He combatted the innumerable Daedra that spilled forth from the foul gates, slaying his kinfolk… including his parents. He was protecting his hometown when he heard that the Crystal Tower was destroyed. The news shocked him to his very core, and he fell ill for several days. When he awoke, he gathered his fellow soldiers and took to the field once again, driving the demons back into their gates and littering the ground with their corpses. He saw the gates close at the dawn of the Fourth Era, and knew his people were responsible for saving their home.

His valor and courage in the face of this crisis restored much of his lost reputation, and it allowed him a position of General again. He returned home for a time to enjoy some time off, many years of it. Then, the Great War. He relished it. He repaid every insult that man had thrown against him with death. Truthfully, he was seething as the White-Gold Concordat was signed, creating peace between the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion. Peace? With these lesser creatures? It was unthinkable.

Still, he thought, he was not the young man he used to be, and the years had taken their toll. He was older than most Elves had chance to be, which was thanks to his magical abilities. Even those were waning, as was his once sturdy body, and there was an undeniable appeal in being able to galavant all across their beloved empire with impunity, striking fear into the hearts of all at the sight of his cloak.

With his age slowing him down, he had settled into a lesser role in pursuing heretics in Skyrim. Patrolling the common shrine areas usually netted them a few fools each season. And it was on such a patrol that he and his two comrades came upon a man, standing with his back turned to them, right in front of the shrine. His hands were clasped and his head was bowed. It was all he needed.

"Greetings, weary travelers. Would you care to join me in a prayer? It is for the dead High King Torygg, slain so cruelly before his time," he said without turning around.

"Is that so, heretic?" Lorcalin declared, enjoying the rasp of weapons unsheathing. "You have confessed to praying at a Shrine of the false god Talos. A heresy such as this is punishable by immediate execution."

"You know, I understand why the Thalmor and Aldmeri Dominion hate Talos," the tall Breton said conversationally, still looking at the shrine. "You feel threatened by him."

"Threatened? By a mere man? A man dead over an era ago. He is no more a threat than a mudcrab," the High Elf spat, but still his sweat ran slightly colder. He could still picture the human as he charged forward on the front lines…

"Bluster all you like, Agent Lorcalin, you and I both know that to be false."

Hearing him speak, Lorcalin froze in his spot. He recovered quickly, suspicion demanding answers. "How do you know my name?"

"For if you truly did not feel threatened by him, then you would not mind people believing in his godliness. You'd let these so-called insignificant peasants that are so far beneath the might of the Elves alone. You'd let them worship bears, if it made them feel better, because what does it matter what they think? But you know well the power of such faith, and it scares you. You hate him for what he represents."

"Shut your mouth, you worm-" one of the Justiciars interrupted.

"It's the fact that men could rise to be greater than you." Still with his back turned, the heretic crossed his arms. "Elves have such long lives, and they are seen as craftsmen of impeccable quality in whatever their given profession is. After all, if you gave a monkey a millennia to figure out how to use a forge, it would eventually learn."

Anger boiled within Lorcalin. "You dare-!"

"But still, credit where it is due, you are hailed as such for a reason. You do have great works of art and of steel. And you've seen the passing of the ages go by far more slowly than the rest of us, haven't you? It must seem such a short time, the lifespan of men. A mere blink of an eye. You spent so long as the prime race of this world, the head honchos. You drove out the native population of the land you moved to when Aldmeris went sideways. And then men learned to forge weapons. They learned to sing songs. To write. To build homes. To wage wars. And they did it so much faster than you." He snorted. "How it must have felt, to watch a sped-up version of evolution. To see them achieve in centuries what took you so much longer."

"Insolence, you will-!"

"And at the end of the Second Era, Tiber Septim waged a war against pretty much the entire continent, and won. A _man_ was able to take the entire _world_. You blinked and almost missed it. The mighty and mystical Elves, beaten handily and outdone by someone a fraction of their age. And that's what scares you. The knowledge that if man were so motivated, they could rise up again, and another Talos might be born, and take back the Empire from you. You're afraid of him because you know someone could get it in their head to fight back against you _and win._ You tell them Talos is not a god even when history has shown his divinity time and time again, because no Elf has ever become so powerful. The Aedra were not ascended Elves. You're jealous." he laughed. "Because man is not weak, and they are not inferior. Because at the end of the day, the Aldmeri Dominion is just a bunch of whimpering, terrified, doubtful bullies that keep looking over their shoulders in fear of the day when the next man will come and slap your asses down and remind you that no matter what, a single powerful person of ANY race can cause more change than an entire country of the oldest and most developed race in the world."

"YOU HERETIC! YOU INSOLENT MAGGOT! DIE!" the female to his left screamed in rage, sprinting forward.

She made it almost into sword-swinging range when her entire form was enveloped with lightning. She screamed as it continued for three seconds, then fell dead, twitching, to the floor.

Agent Lorcalin and the remaining Justiciar looked around frantically, but the lightning did not come from anywhere around them. It looked as if it came… directly… on…

"Your tricks will not work! DIE!" the other rushed him. At about next to her dead companion's body, the ground collapsed under her, and she fell into a shallow pit with spikes, which dug into her exposed flesh where the armor did not block it. Before Lorcalin could do anything, the pit erupted in flames, engulfing the woman with a raging inferno that consumed her entirely.

The tall Breton finally turned around to face Lorcalin, a damnable smirk on his features. "Is this the divine favor of Talos? A series of freak accidents? Magnets? In the end, it doesn't matter to you, Lorcalin, because you're just another arrogant prick that's about to die." The man snapped his fingers, and the Thalmor agent felt his feet be swallowed by the dirt, crushing them as they pulled him down. He screamed and dropped his sword, casting healing with one hand, shooting lightning with the other. The Breton hastily erected a ward, but was still thrown back by the force of the bolt. Lorcalin tried to pull himself up, but the was now stuck up to his knees.

Years of military training kicked in and let him duck under the crossbow bolt that passed over his head, as well as twist out of the way of the arrow that followed it, This unfortunately left him completely off balance, and so he face planted into the ground.

Pushing himself up, the High Elf noticed the strangest markings on the ground. Arcane markings. _Runes,_ he thought suddenly. _It was all-_

Another snap of fingers, and the world exploded around him.

* * *

Mikael poked at the hole in his robes where the lightning had singed away the fabric, healing himself as he did. "Boy am I glad that worked. I was not looking forward to getting into a magic-pissing contest with a High Elf of who knows how old."

"Damn right, runes worked like a dream… even if these ones were so strong they sucked up potions like a skooma addict," Aramen commented, looking back at the several empty blue bottles.

"One day we'll be strong enough to make 'em this good without draining ourselves dry."

The lightning rune the first Thalmor had run into was just about a dozen or so lightning runes overpowered and stacked on top of each other. That much power makes it look like a smiting from the heavens when it went off. The Pit Trap rune configuration was a new design, and did exactly what you'd expect; collapse and compress the ground underfoot and leave a hole with spikes in it. Inside that were several overpowered flame runes as well. The quickmud was also experimental, and had the added crushing effect for maximum trapping potential. Top it all off with some illusions they had worked into runes as well, and it was all hidden. Everywhere around those spots had also had similar traps, since they weren't sure where they were going to stand, and so Mikael had just activated them all once Lorcalin was secured, destroying the remaining traps and blowing him to pieces.

Sadly, they had yet to invent an actual explosive rune, but when they did… the laughs that echoed through the halls of the College while those were worked on haunted the other students to this day.

"Shall we get going, my Thanes?" Lydia prompted. "The noise will likely draw some attention, and we do have places to be."

"Right you are, Lyd," Mikael responded immediately. "I'm done being bait for today. Let's get to Winterhold. Got some gearing up to do!"

"Damn right!" Aramen shouted.

Lydia only shook her head, smiling.

The trio walked away from the smoldering earth, towards the front gate of Whiterun.

"...there's a 'master bait' joke somewhere in here, isn't there?"

"Alas, the moment passed. Next time."

 **XxX**

 **Wasn't as quick as I wanted to be with this next chapter, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. Rest assured that things will be picking up quite soon, a new arc on the horizon! What could it be? Who will be involved? Yadda yadda. Thanks for reading, folks. Please review and stay tuned for more!**

 **-Waki**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

It was still early by the time they arrived at the gates, and were greeted by the guards.

"Well met, Thanes!" the guard on the left said as they took off their helmet, revealing an older man with unkempt red hair and scraggly beard."Good to see you still in one piece, Lydia."

"And you, Erlund," Lydia responded. "Good to see you're still stuck on gate duty. What would happen if they gave you something actually important?"

Both guards were struck silent for a moment, but soon burst out laughing. Mikael and Aramen both shared a smile. It had taken some doing, but it seemed they finally had gotten Lydia to loosen up a bit. That she and this guard knew each other already was probably what made her feel comfortable jabbing at them.

Erlund grinned at the woman. "When did you get such a sharp tongue? These two are a good influence on you." He chuckled again briefly before his eyes lit up. "Oh! Right, meant to tell ye; Jarl Balgruuf wanted to extend an invitation for dinner when you three showed up. Can I tell him to expect you tonight?"

The Twins were rather surprised at the offer and shared a glance, as obviously nothing of the sort was in the game. But it was a pleasant shock, and so Mikael said, "We'd be very happy to join him for dining this evening. At what time should we arrive?"

"Little before sundown, if I remember," Erlund told them.

"You'd forget your helmet if you didn't trip over it in the morning," Lydia stated.

"And you'd forget your sword if you didn't sleep with it tucked under your pillow," Erlund shot back.

Lydia colored ever so slightly. "I've never forgotten it since then."

The guards chuckled once more. "Right," Erlund started walking away.. "I'll tell him to expect you before sundown. Enjoy your stay, Thanes. Stay out of trouble, Lydia!" Lydia merely smiled and shook her head, and the trio proceeded into the city.

"Friends of yours?" Mikael prompted with a smirk.

"A few of the men I trained with when I was younger. Erlund and Yold always seem to get stuck on gate guard duty, and so they wanted something to kill the boredom after their shift."

Aramen nodded. "It's good to have friends."

"Well, I guess we've got some time to kill before this dinner," Aramen mused. "Ideas?"

"We've got some goods to offload, and some supplies to procure," Michael stated. "Got shit to do tomorrow and a few days after."

Walking into the market, they weren't surprised to see it busier than normal in the game. Ever since they started selling through Birna's Oddments and gave her the salt gathering technique, they had pretty much only traded those out through Whiterun. It wasn't unusual for either Twin to have been escorting her wagon full of the goods they had sold to her all the way to Whiterun. In the display of the trading network, it went something like this; Dungeon Loot to Aramen and Mikael to Birna to Whiterun to everywhere else. As such, Whiterun had picked up a fair bit more business, selling items that were harder to come by since few were the adventuring sort. It wasn't too much, but word was getting around that Whiterun was a place to procure goods of all kinds.

The twins swung by Carlotta Valentia to pick up a few apples and noticed Carlotta looking a bit frustrated.

"Nice to see you again, Carlotta," Aramen greeted. They had talked a few times before on their previous trips and so were familiar faces. "But you look a mite angry. Something wrong?"

She gave a sigh. "That bard Mikael is asking for a dagger up against his throat, the way he goes on about me. I heard him boasting at the Bannered Mare, saying he'll 'conquer me as a true Nord conquers a harsh beast." Hmph."

"Sounds like a real prick," the shorter twin commented. "Want us to see about straightening things out for him?"

"If you want to try, go right ahead. I don't think anything will get through that thick skull of his, though," she explained with a weary wave towards the inn. They walked away, smirking as they heard Anoriath's sarcastic response to Nazeem's snootiness. Good man, or Elf, rather. Anoriath was one of Birna's bigger customers, needing plenty of salt for his meats. He had agreed to sign a contract promising his secrecy as to his source of salt. Lydia opted to stay in the square until they returned, citing that she wanted to browse.

Walking into the Bannered Mare, they spotted the bard in question behind the fireplace. Aramen walked off to the side while Mikael approached directly.

The man barely registered the tall Breton's presence. "If it's a girl you're looking for, you'd best look elsewhere. Once Mikael, gets them, they're got."

"It's assholes like you that give the rest of us men a bad name, Mi-KYLE, especially Mi-KAYLs," the Twin spoke loudly, emphasizing the difference in pronunciation of their names. It was notable that the term "asshole" didn't actually exist in the Elder Scrolls universe, far as they could tell, but it clearly got the message across and people turned to look, particularly the bard.

"What was that?" he asked in something like disbelief.

The wizard shrugged amiably. "Nothin' wrong with having confidence, mate. But the difference between confidence and arrogance is backing it up. And being smart enough to take a hint is something any man should be capable of, any man worth his salt anyways," he continued, making no effort to lower his voice. "Seems you lack that ability, so I'll help you out this time; Carlotta does not welcome your advances. You should respect her decision and leave her be."

"Carlotta put you up to this, did she?" he asked with narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry, but that fiery widow is mine. She just doesn't know it yet."

"Oh is that true?" Mikael asked in faux surprise. "That's strange, given how you continue to boast about 'conquering' her, yet she has turned you down flat every time! Why, I'd think that you're merely blowing hot air because you're not man enough to admit she rejected you and not mature enough to move on. Why, you just _scream_ ladies' man, with how cowardly you're acting."

The human was taken aback by the sudden verbal assault. The other bar patrons started murmuring to each other, making the bard feel quite embarrassed. He raised his hands in surrender.

"Whoa, hey there. I didn't mean to make you upset, nor insult her. On my honor, Carlotta won't have to worry about me again," he promised.

Mikael put a friendly hand on his namesake's shoulder. " _That_ is how a man acts. Well said." He left 5 septims on the bench in front of him and walked out the door, his twin following.

They arrived back outside and informed the Nord woman of the good news, turning down her offer of coin, saying that it was only right to help put a man on the right path. They stopped by Belethor's General Goods to offload some of the items they'd picked up from the previous dungeon diving and some of the items that survived from the Thalmor's decimation.

After that, they headed to Warmaiden's to buy some ingots and other crafting supplies, as well as selling the remaining armor and weapons they had. Ulfberth, the shopkeep, was curious as to what they planned on making, but they replied that they couldn't tell him, but he could watch if they allowed him use of their forge for the next couple days. They paid 300 gold for the privilege and shook on it. All in all, it was a productive afternoon.

* * *

The sun was just reaching the horizon over the walls as they stepped through the doors to Dragonsreach, a couple servants scurrying over to take their packs from their backs. Curiosity was the main feeling shared between the brothers. A dinner with Jarl Balgruuf had never been an in-game event, so they were a bit apprehensive about stepping into unknown territory, but they were confident that there was nothing wrong, so it would be fine.

The Jarl in question was sat upon his throne as usual, with Proventus and Irileth flanking him. Upon seeing them, the Nord sat up straighter in his throne and a smile crossed his face.

"Welcome, my Thanes. It is good to see you both again, it's been quite a while," he said, before turning his gaze to their female companion. "And Lydia, it is good to see you as well."

Mikael gave his customary short bow with eye contact, Aramen his nod, and Lydia smiled back, giving a deeper bow. "Likewise, Jarl Balgruuf. And glad to see you're still kicking, Irileth." The Dark Elf nodded in response. "We heard you invited us to dine with you tonight."

Proventus seemed to take some offense to the obvious omission of a greeting to him, but was interrupted by the Jarl before he could make an ass of himself.

"Indeed!" Jarl Balgruuf clapped his hands together, standing. Several servants bustled about, offering chairs to the Twins at the left side table, Jarl Balgruuf taking the seat on the end. Irileth stood off his right shoulder. Lydia was ready to follow suit, but Aramen merely rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair for her between him and Mikael. She hesitated, but sat after a moment. "Where's father?" She asked.

"Hrongar's off sparring with some overconfident new recruits for the guard," the Jarl responded. "He'll be back late, we weren't expecting you today."

Lydia looked a bit down, but Mikael put a hand on her shoulder. "We're here for a few days. Feel free to spend time with him, we'll just need you for some things in the morning. We won't mind if you're not by our side every hour." She inclined her head, looking happy.

Now that they were seated, the servants placed platters with various meats and fruits and vegetables before them, filling their mugs with mead, to which the Twins gave thankful nods. Jarl Balgruuf set some food on his plate, and the rest followed suit.

"So tell me, friends, what adventures have you been up to while away from the city?" the Jarl asked.

The two Bretons happily started recanting their various exploits, taking turns telling the story to allow each other time to eat, making jabs and snarks at each other as they went, Lydia occasionally adding her own perspective on matters. They talked at length about their time in Winterhold, culminating in them ousting Korir, citing their reasons for doing so. "The man was a stubborn fool, and the town is better off without him," Aramen summed up.

Balgruuf made a hum of acknowledgement. "It came as quite a surprise when I received a gift from Jarl Kraldar, but I had a feeling the two of you were involved somehow."

The Twins felt the scrutinizing eyes of Balgruuf the Greater upon them, which made them uneasy. Honestly, they hadn't considered any of the other Jarls' thoughts on replacing Korir at the time, they had only needed to plead their case to the Elder Council. While the people of the Blue Palace seemed accepting and approving of their actions, they weren't sure what the other holds' reactions would be.

"Replacing a Jarl, even one such as Korir, is no minor feat, nor is it an action that should have been taken lightly," he informed them with a stern look. "Skyrim is in a delicate place right now. The damned Stormcloaks and Imperials have mostly been skirmishing with one another and unwilling to commit. However, a sudden shift in power might have been the tremor that triggered the avalanche leading to all out war, with Whiterun being caught in the middle. You two have sworn yourselves to the service of this hold, _MY_ hold. I have proudly proclaimed you as my own, your actions reflect upon me. Fortunately, nothing has come of this, thanks in part to Kraldar's swift actions in offering peace to the other Jarls."

He was right, of course. It was obvious in hindsight; none of the Jarls in the game were replaced until the war broke out. By switching things up like that out of the blue, it likely made the other Jarls pause. Hell, how much effort would it really take for someone to find out that Kraldar was only appointed thanks to the efforts of his two new Thanes? The other holds' eyes would now be on them. Anybody with the power of unseating a throne would be held in cautious and scrutinizing eyes, and would probably color their opinions on them before they ever met. It was only luck that they'd gotten to Solitude before the courier to make a good first impression. Gods know what went through the minds of the others.

Aramen and Mikael were smart enough to realize when they'd made an error, but they still wouldn't call it a mistake. Everything had turned out alright this time, but they would be sure to be more careful in the future.

"You are right on all counts, Jarl Balgruuf," Mikael responded solemnly. Neither Twin's eyes left the Jarls. To do so would be weakness. "We were hasty and rash, and did not fully consider our actions. We apologize for causing you such concern."

"I have heard your reasons for your actions and don't blame you for your choice, but I wish you had tempered your eagerness with caution." Balgruuf sighed. He vividly recalled Proventus' rantings and worry after they had gotten the gifts, about how war was sure to break out now, how foolish the two Thanes were, a comment which got him quite the look from Irileth and words from Balgruuf. The Dark Elf stood silently during all this, dutifully watching out for her Jarl while he spoke. "Now you are Thanes of two holds, two loyalties. I should hope you'll never be forced to choose between them."

"Jarl Balgruuf," Aramen started, "I see this as the best for both Winterhold and Whiterun. You've no doubt noticed the pick up in trade between the two cities. Kraldar's political leanings are much like your own; not wanting to pick a side, though he may have Imperial sympathies. With now two holds pushed towards neutrality, this should serve to help prevent war. With Winterhold trying to get back on its' feet, having strong early ties to Whiterun will ensure good relations between us for a long time to come."

Balgruuf looked considerate for a moment. "That is true. I'll trust your word on Kraldar. As long as you do not forget your duties to Whiterun, I will be content with letting you two handle this."

"We will not disappoint you, Jarl Balgruuf. That, we promise," Mikael finished, his brother echoing the same immediately after.

Jarl Balgruuf smiled, and the tension was cut from the air. "Good. Now, tell me more about your adventures."

When they got to the part about Meridia, they paused. Daedra worship was, of course, outlawed under the Thalmor rule. That being said, Meridia was widely regarded as one of the "good" daedra, so they felt they could explain somewhat. "This is Dawnbreaker," Aramen explained as he stood up and unsheathed his longsword. "A gift, from a… powerful associate, for clearing out a necromancer problem." The table and bystanders all regarded the weapon with awe and appreciation, the glow was quite beautiful. They saw the shared look between Balgruuf and Irileth, which the Jarl turned on them, to which Aramen merely gave a sly wink before putting it away.

They continued on, speaking of Wolfskull Cave, garnering appropriate reactions of horror and respect, ending with them speaking with Jarl Elisif, excluding her personal request. They had found a courier shortly after their shopping spree and sent him with a letter to Jarl Elisif to explain they had done the task. They ended their story by explaining they took the wagon to Whiterun, making no mention of their detour to the shrine.

"..and we did a bit of shopping earlier, planning on making some special equipment over the next few days. When we were done, we came here," Mikael finished, drinking some mead to wet his throat.

"How I envy you, friends," Balgruuf told them with a smile. "To be young and have such adventures once more. You seem to have grown in your time away." He looked to Lydia. "And you, Lydia. How have you felt about travelling with our Thanes?"

"I am honored to serve them, Jarl Balgruuf," she responded easily. "I feel that I've learned much by following them, and have been happy to teach them some things as well. I've seen more of the world than I thought I would so soon. I feel they have upheld their titles dutifully."

Jarl Balgruuf nodded, satisfied. Mikael asked, "So tell me, how have things been here, Jarl?"

"Beyond what you already know," the Nord said while spearing himself another piece of meat, "little. The people are happy as ever. Why, I was talking with Hulda the other day-"

"Balgruuf, did you slip out again last night for a drink at the Bannered Mare?" Irileth asked accusingly.

"Heard about that, did you?" Balgruuf adjusted himself to better look at his housecarl. "Yes, I went out for a pint or two. What of it?"

Irileth sighed. "These secret visits to the tavern will make you an easy target for an enemy assassin. You should have told me first."

"Damn it, woman, I'm the Jarl of Whiterun! I won't apologize for talking to my people. You can't protect me every moment of the day," he spoke with exasperation, but obvious fondness.

The Dark Elf smirked. "That might be so, but it will never stop me from trying."

"Anyways… there have been no further attacks from the dragons, though our men are still vigilant." The two breathed a sigh of relief. While they had individually made several trips to Whiterun and saw that nothing major had happened, it's better to hear it from the Jarl himself.

Aramen hummed through a mouthful of mead before swallowing. "Speaking of the dragons, that's something we wanted to take care of while we were here," he told the man.

After taking a few of the scales and bones that had fallen apart from the main bodies of the two dragons as gifts to the soldiers families, they deliberated what to do with the rest. By the time they had stepped through the doors of Dragonsreach all those months ago, they knew what they wanted. So they asked the Jarl if he could cart the remains back to the city and store them somewhere until they were sure they knew what to do with them.

"Ah, finally decided on something, then?" Balgruuf leaned forward eagerly.

"Why, yes we have," Aramen informed him with a grin, his brother following suit. "We've decided to go ahead and make some weapons and armor out of them, except for the skulls. _Those_ are coming back with us to Winterhold, where I'm sure they'll make lovely decoration."

Jarl Balgruuf laughed heartily, a few nearby guards chuckled, and even Irileth cracked a smile. "A fine choice, friends! I look forward to seeing what you make from these."

"We'll be sure to swing by before we leave, Jarl Balgruuf," Mikael assured him.

They continued with some idle chatter as dinner wound down. Finally, Jarl Balgruuf wiped his face with a napkin and stood up, prompting the others to do the same. "It was nice to catch up with you, Mikael, Aramen, Lydia," The Jarl nodded to each in turn. "Get some rest, and though I assume you will be busy, I look forward to seeing you again before your departure. Until then, good hunting."

"May your enemies fall before you," Mikael said with a nod.

"May their blood whet your blade," Aramen finished. And with that, the trio left, retrieving their belongings as they did, and took off for the Bannered Mare.

* * *

Five days.

Five days of designing, bending, snapping, chopping, sewing, refining, sharpening, transfusing, and enchanting. That was what it took to achieve their latest masterpieces. Aramen and Mikael merely sat back to soak in their fine work.

Aramen's armor was made to look like ranger style armor; light and durable emphasizing mobility. The boots were tightened with straps, the trousers had knee pads and were fit well but also loose enough to not inhibit movement. The gauntlets were thick gloves with bracers up to the knuckles. The cuirass itself was similarly fashioned with buckles and a thick belt, with pouches on either side. Pauldrons that hugged his shoulders going down adorned the top, and his back was cloaked as well. Finally, there was a masked hood that gave near maximum coverage and only limited his peripheral vision slightly, not the he planned to wear it much. All of it was done with thick leather and skinned with the scales of the green-silver dragon, giving it a very slight shimmer when one watched, but more importantly made it very strong. Topping it all off was a pair of enchantments for Restoration and Magicka Regeneration, he'd rather not get hit in the first place but he was more than prepared for the eventuality. Aramen was happy with the results, but not entirely satisfied. He mentally dubbed it "Ranger Armor Mk.1"

Mikael, on the other hand, went for something more befitting of his magical inclinations but still possible for stealth. His armor looked more like modified robes, with dyed black leather and cloth as the base, and the scales of the red dragon serving to armor it. The boots were buckled, and notably softer than his twin's on the bottom, though still as sturdy on top, as to help his sneaking. The trousers were looser and thinner, not meant for protection. His gloves were similar to the ranger style, but the vambraces were bone with scales covering it, and the fingers were cut off. His robes were thick and held on with buckles, with short sleeves that hung over the gloves just below the elbow, and they hung down to the knees. The robes themselves also were designed for easy removal, as under the bulky outer layer was a form-fitting black long sleeve shirt that was covered in red scales, accompanied by a belt with several pouches. For the head there were two sets. There was a black mask and tight hood he could use for concealment when he went for stealth, but most other times he would wear an ebony helmet, citing that it both looked great as it was and was up there as strongest protection for combat. His robes were enchanted for straight magicka regeneration rather than making types of magic cheaper to cast, because while he could eventually work a complex enchantment to incorporate all the types together, it would take more time and power than they had here. Mikael did feel his outfit spoke of indecisiveness, not being able to commit to a pure magic or pure stealth design, but reasoned that, like his brother's, this was only the first draft of their equipment.

As for Lydia, she was unanimously voted as the tank of the party by virtue of being the only heavy armor user. She wore a rather standard set of dragon bone full plate, only slightly modified. The shoulder plates were smaller and the armor had less extrusions on the chestplate, smoothing it to mere bumps. The helmet was similarly hornless.

While everyone's headgear came with a bit of climate control with some clever use of fire and cold enchantments activated by tapping the gear on either side and the masks having water breathing, they were disappointed on how anemic their gear otherwise was. Simple fact was that after ingots, buying grand soul gems ate through their money fast and they could only afford a few without going broke, and had already decided what most of them would be used on wasn't their gear.

On the weapons side, Aramen was already satisfied with Dawnbreaker and his crossbow was fine for the moment. He very much wanted to make a dragon bone crossbow, but was hesitant to do so. He'd wait until he could spend more time working the designs. Lydia was sporting a new dragon bone sword and shield combo, unenchanted for the moment. Mikael got a small bone dagger to keep in his boot, but had other plans for his work.

Doodly doodly doo FLASHBACK

" _Aramen, Lydia, I think it's time I start giving more thought to my fighting style," Mikael began as they looked over their armor designs._

" _Yeah? I'm all ears," the shorter Breton said, Lydia nodding and giving her full attention._

" _I'm not much of a weapons guy, plain and simple," he stated. "If I want some, I'll make them, conjure one up." He had been working on changing the appearance and style of his bound weapons, remembering that Oblivion merely conjured daedric weapons whereas Skyrim made shimmery ghost versions, and was experimenting to see what he could do with them. "But I don't use them much. If I have to pick, I'd stick with a dagger, but I'd rather focus on magic. However, I don't want to be helpless in melee, so I think I want to start focusing on hand-to-hand."_

 _Lydia looked apprehensive while Aramen grimaced, and Mikael didn't blame him. As far as they had seen, nobody in the Elder Scrolls series had a real fighting style for fisticuffs, just straight brawling. Which meant that he'd have to start from the ground up in either inventing or re-creating a fighting style from Earth._

 _Mikael wasn't planning to focus on being strong like his brother, so styles centered on grappling or throwing would be difficult to focus on, but the simple fact was that people in this world wore_ ARMOR _, which rather made striking styles like Karate and Taekwondo difficult to employ, as they relied on the opponent to be clothed rather than geared. He was smart enough to know that every style had their own benefits and could incorporate specific parts, but he needed something more solid. Aikido was more self defense based, more immobilize than eliminate. But Jujitsu… that mainly focused on redirecting attacks, joint locks, and counter-attacks, which would suit him just fine._

 _The biggest bitch of a problem in the way of this is that Mikael had only passing knowledge of the basics of these fighting styles and a few youtube videos in his mind to go off of, so he'd have to develop it through trial and excruciating error. He rubbed his face, already seeing his schedule for the next few months arranging._

" _Well, no point going half-assed about it. This'll be my choice. Goin' monk."_

Woobly woobly woo CURRENT TIME

So it was that Aramen designed for Mikael a weapon as of yet unseen by the Elder Scrolls world; Brass knuckles out of dragon bone. Not enchanted in any way, as Mikael felt that they would be perfect being as mundane as possible. He needn't fear throwing his full strength behind a punch at a wall and breaking them, his hand would first. They would serve well for blunt damage against armored enemies.

The Twins sat down, arms on each others' shoulder, tired from their hard work, and hoping their housecarl was enjoying herself while they were busy.

* * *

Metal crashed together, sparks flying off from the intensity of the swings. Lydia used the force of the blow to spin, backhanding the opponent with her shield. He grunted, and swung his claymore, aiming for her head. Lydia ducked under, planting her hand behind her as she kicked viciously at the man's knees, but he hopped back out of range.

Righting herself, Lydia pressed the attack shield first, wincing at the force of the blow she'd blocked, the latest of many that left her feeling the bruises form each time. Still, it gave her the opportunity for a side swipe at the torso, which was barely avoided by the man, cutting in to his clothing. In retaliation, he gave a nasty downwards chop with his own blade.

Lydia panted hard, sweat dripping down her face. Her arms shook with the effort of pushing back against the sword of her foe, relentless in his attack. Suddenly, the pressure let up, and she was put off balance as she leaned forward. Seeing a fist come racing towards her, she decided to roll into the lean rather than fight her momentum, causing her to tumble forward into the man attacking her, driving her head into his gut. Hearing a satisfying "oomph" emerge, she raised her blade to strike, only to feel the tickle of steel against the back of her neck.

"Halt," called a voice, a female Dark Elf's voice, specifically. "Hrongar is the victor."

"Well fought, well fought," Hrongar said, similarly sweating, but not nearly as winded. Lydia nodded and lowered her sword, shakily standing up and offering a hand to her father, who took it and rose to his feet. He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "I haven't been pushed that hard in years."

Lydia merely nodded, catching her breath. They were currently in the courtyard outside of Dragonsreach, having just finished the latest of three spars in the past few days, with Irileth serving as judge. They both walked over to a nearby barrel with water, taking turns drinking deeply before dunking their heads.

Irileth let them gather themselves before walking over. "As always, Lydia, your defense is strong. Your attacks seemed different than how we trained, but it seems to work well for you. You really ought to learn to dodge better, as you well can feel what taking these hits will do to your stamina if you have to keep blocking them," Irileth lectured. "Still, it's clear how much you've been practicing while you were gone. Very well done." Irileth nodded, satisfied. With the ghost of a smile on her lips, she turned and went back inside.

"You've improved more in these past few months than the last four years, Lydia. I'm proud of how strong you are," the man told her. "Your mother would be very proud as well, I know."

An old throb where an emotional wound once lay, but she was still happy. Moments like this reminded her of when she was a teen, first training with her father and Irileth. She recalled many hot days and cold nights spent in this courtyard, practicing her swings over and over to get the feel of each attack right. Her father was always there, encouraging her, chastising her for losing her head in a fight, pushing her every bout.

"Thank you, father," Lydia replied happily. "It hasn't been easy being a housecarl, but it's been very rewarding." Between the dungeons, the daily morning spars, the travelling, the friends she'd made in Winterhold, and the camaraderie from her two companions, she felt like she'd seen much in little time.

"Aye, those Thanes of ours have brought you along some very challenging tasks," Hrongar said approvingly. "You'll be heading out soon, then?"

"When Aramen and Mikael are finished working on their 'projects', yes."

'Time flies when you're having fun' was one of the phrases that the twins introduced Lydia to during their time together, and she could definitely agree. Seeing her father again after this long away from home was heartwarming, and they had spent hours talking, mostly Lydia regaling her experiences, as little had changed at home. But the days seemed to flit by far too quickly for her liking. She leaned against Hrongar, who put a fatherly arm on her shoulder.

"Just remember all I've taught you, and you'll be fine. Maybe one day you'll even best me in a fight," he said with a joking smile, the most emotion he'd ever display, and it was only with his daughter.

"I think I'll be old and gray before I ever beat you, father," she replied with a smile herself.

They stood like that for a little while longer before pushing off the wall and heading to the doors of Dragonsreach.

As it turned out, they were just in time, as it seemed Mikael and Aramen had recently arrived as well, and were chatting with Jarl Balgruuf and Irileth, Proventus nowhere to be seen. Not that she minded that, the man was not to her liking. They also seemed to be dressed in impressive new armor, the shorter Breton in a green and silver outfit, while his twin was in a red and black wizardly garb, both with their adventuring packs on. Hearing the doors open and close, they turned to face them.

"Ah, Lydia! Good timing. We were about to send for you, but Irileth told us you'd be by shortly," Aramen greeted. "And glad to see you in good health, Hrongar."

"And you as well, Thanes," he responded, reaching the throne.

Mikael clapped his hands together. "Right! Well, on to the point, then. As you can see, our gear has been properly upgraded, and Birna should be arriving later tonight, where we will all be spending an evening at the inn before heading out in the morning. On that note," He shrugged off his pack and pulled out several items from it. "We have a few gifts. First, Lydia."

Lydia was utterly surprised to see what was laid out before her. An entire armor set made from dragon bones, including a new sword and shield. It was clear just from looking at it how strong it must be. Her father beside her looked similarly stunned, Irileth looked surprised and Jarl Balgruuf was quite impressed.

"My Thanes, I am honored. Thank you," She said with a bow.

"Ah, Lydia, what did we say about bowing to us?" Aramen said with a teasing smile. "And like we said, good gear is important, and damned if you don't deserve some of the best out there for what we put you through. There's some specific stuff about it that we'll explain later."

She could only nod and smile, itching to try it on. But she was sweaty and tired, she would save it for the morning.

"Next, a gift for you, Hrongar."

And she thought she couldn't be more surprised after that. The man next to her visibly reacted. "Me?" he asked, confused.

"You, unless there is some other Hrongar here?" Mikael joked. "This is both a gift for the living weapon that you are, and a thank you." Aramen pulled from his pack a Dragonbone Claymore, which he walked over to Hrongar and presented hilt first, blade down. He continued where his brother left off. "Thank you for taking such care of Lydia, thank you for raising her as well as you did. If you hadn't, we would never have gotten the chance to meet her, to fight alongside her." Both of the Breton's faces were utterly serious and honest. Hrongar was not an emotional man, but he knew respect when he saw it, and grasped the blade tightly, looking into the eyes of the Thane, taking it from the much younger man. He held it up before his eyes, Lydia also observing it, then lowered it.

"I thank you both, Aramen and Mikael. Know that you will always be welcome in my home," he swore.

They nodded seriously, before turning their attention to the other female in the room.

"Irileth." Lydia could see the intrigued look in her mentor's eyes. "To better defend your life and that of Jarl Balgruuf's, we have for you this." Mikael drew a Dragonbone Sword from his pack, in a sheath. "Upon this blade we have a special enchantment that I invented. Note the indentation on the bottom of the pommel," he indicated. He tapped it, and for a brief second, a wide shimmering ward formed in a bubble before dissipating almost immediately. "This ward will spread out four feet in every direction from the handle and could take the force of a giant's club, but will only last about fifteen seconds before needing a recharge, less if it were a couple giants. In case of some emergency, I trust you will make excellent use of this." With that, he offered it to her, sideways.

Irileth took it in her left hand with great care, and nodded solemnly. "I thank you both for this fine gift and swear it shall be put to good use for our lord." Mikael smiled and offered his hand, which Irileth shook. Lydia looked at Jarl Balgruuf, who was watching this all with silent pride and clear happiness.

"Finally" Aramen spoke. "Jarl Balgruuf."

Her lord leaned forward, giving his full attention.

Aramen withdrew a wicked looking Dragonbone War Axe. Lydia noted that this, along with the other weapons, appeared to have been refined at a grinding wheel. She almost laughed, it would have been just like the two of them to take the best of weapons and refine them."A Jarl should have only the best of personal defense, but a wise Nord knows that the best defense is a good offense. Hence why this little beauty has a powerful Magicka Absorption enchantment on it, to help you plow through whatever physical or magical defense your enemies have. May your enemies never live to regret the folly of attacking you, Jarl Balgruuf." He offered the weapon the the Jarl.

Jarl Balgruuf smiled, standing up. He took the offered axe in hand and stared at it for a moment, then turned and swung several chops in the air. He exhaled, seeming very pleased, and tucked the axe into his belt, sitting back down on the throne. "I've been plied with bribes and gifts by more than a few who thought they could place me in their debt, but I've never received an honest gift of such quality, nor seen a Thane of Whiterun offer such to others of the court." He looked at the Thanes, who had moved to both stand beside each other in front of him. "I am truly thankful for what you've done here tonight, my Thanes."

Lydia couldn't help smiling as well when her two Thanes grinned. "Honestly, we're just happy to know that you all will be safer and better off with those at your side," Mikael said.

"And it was damned satisfying to work with such high-grade materials," Aramen continued.

"So long as we can be of help, Jarl Balgruuf, we intend to be. We like Whiterun and consider you a friend."

"As do I, Aramen and Mikael." The moment seemed to hold there, with all six of those present smiling at one another.

"Now I'm afraid we must be off, got an early start in the morning," Mikael explained, giving his short bow and brother nodding.

"Of course, please go get rest. I wish you all safe journeys," Balgruuf told them. The Twins slipped their packs back on, collecting Lydia's armor.

"Take care, you three," Irileth called as they turned away.

Lydia turned and faced her father. She stepped into his embrace, him patting her back. After a few seconds she stepped back, smiling at her father. "I love you, father. I'll see you again when next I return."

"You be safe, Lydia, and watch after them well," he replied. No more needed to be said between them, they knew everything important that didn't have to be.

And as Lydia turned towards the stairs, to the door leading out of Dragonsreach, she looked at the grinning faces of her two companions. For the first time in a long time, she grinned as well.

Whatever came next, she would always have this moment.

* * *

It was about the break of dawn when the trio stepped out of the inn, followed by Birna and one of the guards from Whiterun who had escorted the wagon, a fellow named Loke. They immediately headed for the gates, pausing only to get their souvenirs.

"By the gods! Is _this_ why you wanted me to save space on the wagon?" the shopkeep asked. She had done a bit of shopping when she arrived the previous day and had some bundles of cloth and furs.

On their way out, passing by Warmaidens, they had left the very last unused portions of the dragons they'd killed; the skulls. "They'll make one hell of a conversation piece," Mikael commented, struggling to lift one with both arms and magic while Lydia and Aramen took the other. Birna merely shook her head and made for the gate. As they left, a few of the guards would cheer upon seeing the skulls, shouting praise at the Thanes.

Soon, they reached the stables, where Birna quickly hooked up her horses to the wagon while everyone else hopped in the back, the wood creaking slightly from the weight of four grown adults and two heads.

"Time to be getting back," Aramen declared. With that, they took off, heading northbound to their destination.

* * *

 **OMAKE TIME**

The day after their dinner, the Twins returned to Dragonsreach to discuss a most important matter.

"I'm sorry, a what?" Proventus asked.

"A concert," Mikael explained patiently. "A musical festival hosted by Whiterun, run by us two. We've already sent invitations to a few key groups and people."

"We'll be providing all the music, naturally." Aramen pantomimed strumming a guitar. "Songs you've never heard before in your lives, nor has anyone in all of Tamriel, I can guarantee."

"Many different styles of music, with even a bit of showmanship courtesy of yours truly," Mikael told them, smoke flowing out of his fingers. "I can promise you it will be the cultural cornerstone of the century. Something beyond what any have ever experienced."  
"We just want you guys to play host, since Whiterun is fairly centralized and Dragonsreach is practically already a stage by design. You won't go uncompensated, I can assure you."

Jarl Balgruuf mused. Irileth remained silent, completely out of her element on the subject. Proventus seemed more skeptical, but when didn't he? "I will grant you this request, my Thanes. Just be aware that this is my home, and that you may be held responsible if things go wrong."

The Twins grinned widely. "Not to worry Jarl Balgruuf. In a couple nights, you'll be thanking the divines that you allowed us to do this."

XxX

 **Oh yeah. This is one of the omake ideas I've had since this story's conception. A whole bloody concert. It'll probably be broken up into a few pieces, but I'm still rather excited for it. The Overpowered Broken Game Omake will continue, don't you worry.**

 **Please, sir, can I have some more reviews?**

 **-Waki Paki**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

It was very late at night when the wagon rolled into Winterhold. The only people on the streets were guards.

"Okay, Birna. Would you do us a favor and hold onto these skulls until morning?" Mikael prompted, hopping off his seat.

"As long as you don't mind me leaving them where they are," she answered, eying the hefty bones with a wary look.

"Yeah that's fine, we just can't take them with us right now." Aramen rolled his neck and moved aside to let Lydia off. "We're going to get some sleep at the inn, wouldn't want to wake up our colleagues at the College."

Birna hummed in acknowledgement, wordlessly freeing the horses before tottling off back to her shop. Loke merely nodded to the trio and went off to talk to another guard. The trio proceeded to trot over to the Frozen Hearth.

Inside, all was quiet. The main room was empty save Dagur, looking barely awake behind the bar, barely registering as 50 septims were placed in front of him, enough for three rooms and some mead. Lydia, sensing the Twins' desire for a private conversation, bowed out and went to her room. Mikael and Aramen, flagons in hand, sat down at the far table by the door, next to each other.

They both took a long draw before setting their mugs back down, neither wanting to be the one to say it. Mikael gave up first.

"I really, _really_ wish it didn't have to come to this," he said quietly.

"We either pay his price or we pay in time, and time is not something we can be sure we have. Besides, we are bound to draw his eye sooner or later." Aramen takes a long pull of his mug before grumbling, "If we haven't drawn it already that is."

"Yeah, we're probably already fucked."

Hermaeus Mora. Daedric god of knowledge and memory, scryer of fate. Alignment of True Neutral, leaning Chaotic. He sees all who seek wisdom as his servants. His realm of Oblivion is an eternal library known as Apocrypha, where all knowledge is recorded in books without titles or covers, and ghosts roam endlessly, searching for the knowledge they sought in life. A Cthulhu-looking motherfucker, too.

Working with someone like him was appealing, but very risky. Miraak did it, but then he also tried to break his deal with Mora, but then he was also stuck in Apocrypha for a while, but Miraak was a whiny power hungry moron anyways, so he got what he deserved. _Will get what he deserves, rather._ As long as they set the rules of their agreement firmly and clearly, they may be able to avoid getting boned down the line.

"It's a dangerous game we play, _mon frere,_ " Mikael said with a wry smile.

Aramen pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, not quite being able to smile back, "Remember when our biggest concern was whether the next Bioware game was going to be EA garbage?"

"Remember when we used to have video games and air conditioning?" he returned. His smile fell. "If we play our cards right and cross our fingers, we won't be damned to this particular hell for all eternity."

"Absolutely. Why lock ourselves into this one when there are so many other hells to choose from?"

They shared a bitter laugh at that. "Alright, let's try to work out what we want exactly to bargain…"

They spent the next two hours hunched over some paper with quills, shooting wording and ideas back and forth, drafting and redrafting their wording for their eventual potential agreement before finally heading off to bed.

* * *

Dagur stood alongside Jarl Kraldar, Birna, and near everyone else in town as they watched in mixed wonder and satisfaction several of the college mages stood in front of a ten foot wide gap in the walls of Winterhold, several large rocks and boulders gathered tightly by it.

"Alright," Aramen said loudly, watching from the side. "Just like before; gather the stones, and fuse them together, and slowly rise up. We'll step in if it looks like it'll collapse," he gestured to his Twin, who nodded.

The gathered mages put their hands to the rocks, and got a look of great strain and focus as the stones seemed to move and melt together like a lumpy grey soup, shifting into the gap of the wall until it was fit at the base, sinking into the ground as it did. Then it started rising, slowly and surely. This was the final section of the wall that was being built. It had taken over a month to make it, but by the Eight if it didn't look damned impressive. Fifteen feet thick and twenty five feet tall where the guards walked on top.

When the two Thanes had come back, they'd held a meeting of the city council that day. They indicated a spot about fifty feet away from the broken house on the front of the main road and declared that to be the gate location. It would sweep right to the cliffs on the eastern part of town all the way to the College entrance. After outlining the "perimeter" as they'd called it, they talked about how they planned to build it without paying for expensive masons to come here. They showed off a new spell they'd made called _Stoneshape_ , and told them all the idea; use the mountains themselves to build the walls. For the west side of town, like behind the Jarl's longhouse, they'd pulled the stone from the surrounding mountain and gave it a ten foot gap between the new mountain edge and the walls themselves. Then, they took the large stones and boulders to the right of the main road and used those as well. When they ran out, they started pulling off large chunks of rock and having people carry or cart it over to the outline of the walls.

Apparently, it was exhausting casting that spell so much. Dagur couldn't relate, but after the Bretons had started teaching the spell to the teachers at the College and they started helping out, even they looked dog-tired at the end of the day. Not that Dagur didn't help out, of course. His arms were still sore from all the stone he'd dragged back and forth. But it was the sort of hurt that made him proud to feel it; the hard work and effort of a man's labor.

These walls looked very different from the one he'd seen at Whiterun and heard of in other cities. On the top of each, there were stone parts jutting outwards, something the two Thanes called "parapets". They were about eye height on a Nord standing on the walls, then sloped downwards on the outside to chest high. Each was spaced about two feet apart from the last one and they covered the entire thing. He may not be a soldier, but Dagur could tell these were made for war.

An added boon to all the mountain carving was the finding of lots of ore deposits they'd unearthed. As the land belonged to the Jarl, so did the ore they found, but he asked the Bretons what they would do with it. They promised to find good use of them for the city, and suggested not to sell it. What they planned to do with all, he didn't know, but he'd bet a hundred septims it would be good.

Dagur's eyes drew back to the mages' work. He watched Tolfdir push the stone into shape, forming the last couple parapets on top of the wall. Tolfdir was a man Dagur had come to respect in these past months. He was smart, but didn't act like that made him better than others for it. He was helpful all the time, and had a good sense of humor. They'd shared a drink or two some nights after meetings, or when he stopped by. Dagur didn't hate the mages, but he used to distrust and resent them. But here they were, building the walls of the city with magic and their own hands. If they could do this for everyone, well, the least he could do is give them respect.

Finally, the stone solidified back into one piece, and everyone cheered. The wizards looked tired but pleased. A couple of guards came by and slapped the Twins on the back. The Twins themselves shook hands and whooped loudly, grinning like madmen. Dagur himself joined in the cheering. Kraldar had a broad smile on his face, standing back and taking in the sight of the seemingly single long piece of stone carved into a wall with great satisfaction.

"...get someone to design proper watchtowers, we don't know jack about that kind of architecture," he heard Mikael saying to some of the mages and other townsfolk. "But once you have them it wouldn't be hard to shape them up just like the rest."

"And some of the fancier stuff will need to be saved for another day," Aramen agreed. "But still, nice fucking work!" Whatever "fucking" was supposed to mean here, Dagur didn't know.

* * *

It was late as he walked back up the road from the Jarl's Longhouse after another meeting. Archmage Savos Aren took a moment to appreciate the new luminary devices planted along the sides of the street and remember how they had come to be.

It had started, as many things seemed to these days, with a suggestion from two of his best students. They had approached the city council with a modest proposal of making copies of the light wells that the College had for the streets of Winterhold. It would serve to improve visibility with the terrible weather they already had, as well as for night. In addition, they said it would be nice for them to also give off heat, but with a larger range than a simple fire. Most everyone had agreed to the idea, but Birna had spoken up, asking why they had to be just like the College's design? She cited that the light wells were too low and wide, and said that the light would not reach as far. Mikael and Aramen looked pleasantly surprised by her idea, and wholeheartedly agreed, taking a moment to pull out some parchment and draw a few sketches out before they decided on the final look.

Mikael had spent a day before he finalized the enchantment for the street lights, each able to be powered by mere petty soul gems. The tall Breton showed it to Sergius Turrianus and Colette Marence, entrusting them to handle empowering them while the Twins worked on setting up the physical posts themselves. Each post was tall and narrow, perhaps ten feet at the top. The main body was made of stone, shaped into the earth to improve stability. At the top of these was a small metal cage-looking head. Those were crafted from a combination of iron, steel, and a hint of ebony for the color. The cage had four bars connecting the bottom to the top and had glass panes in between. The soul gem sat inside these.

The end result was what Savos saw now; bright illumination that spread some twenty feet in every direction and dimmer beyond. Heat rolled off each, leaving melted patches of snow in the immediate surroundings, serving to warm the people who walked by. The wind still blew through one's clothes, but it was still quite effective for what was there. Street lights were raised about every thirty feet along the main road, and a few along the interior of the walls, not on top. They were simply enough to create, so if more were needed, most any competent mage would be able to do so.

The old Dark Elf shook his head. Something so simple, and so useful. A perfect example of how magic can be used in every part of the world. Ancestors know how many ignorant, fearful, and angry fools he'd had to deal with in his life, purely based on him knowing to cast spells. With any luck, this would help make people more comfortable with magic in general.

And it seemed that luck was on his side, as the College had picked up three more students in the past month or so. They were all novices, barely capable by and standards. But their mere presence showed that the College's name was being spread once more as a place of learning and discovery. In time, he was sure more would come to explore the wonders of Magicka. Savos' heart panged for a moment as he remembered his former classmates, his friends. He shook himself out of his reverie.

Ever since their arrival back, he'd seen his two more promising students doing much independent research and experiments. Mikael seemed to alternate between subjects regarding enchanting and alteration. He was often seen hunched over an enchanting table, grumbling about how expensive the Grand soul gems were and how they were quite low on funds. Aramen seemed keen on destruction types. While more than a few of explosions had erupted from this, no damage had been done to either the other students or the building.

He decided that in recognition for their achievement and application of clever enchanting and spellwork, he would be giving the Aramen and Mikael a few specialized tutoring lessons. He had seen the skill and swiftness with which they already practiced their magicka. Soon, Savos would see just how much and how quickly they could learn.

* * *

"Thank you, and stop by again when you can," Birna called to the merchant as they stepped out her front door. She smiled as they left, looking at the hefty pouch of septims she'd earned from the transaction. Birna was a proud woman, but she could admit when she'd made mistakes or was wrong. And in this case, she was quite happy to be.

Despite her not being sure of it, building that wall first seemed like the right thing to do. Birna had done what she could, spreading word of the construction while it was being built on her trips to Whiterun, and it worked. It had been only a week or so before travelers came their way, wanting to see the new face of Winterhold. Then those people told others, and they told others. Now, it was unusual to have four days go by without someone coming to town.

With so many more customers, and her store being the only one in town besides the inn, she was making more in three weeks than she used to in three months. At least, three months without the Twins. Who, between building new homes, studying at the College, and training, took some time to once again expand her store, even expand her home on the second floor. She was slightly put off by the obvious difference the addition showed. Instead of continuing to build it out of wood, the Twins simply did their stone casting to add a large section and then knocked down a wall. Still, she now had many shelves for displaying different sections of goods, a larger and fancier counter, and a storeroom for all the salt she'd gathered.

Another thing, the salt. After many months of gathering with James' help, she was sitting on more kilograms than she could bother to count. They'd decided to take a break with collecting it for now, since they had plenty and didn't want to over-sell it. The Twins had promised them a small building on the coast to help "more efficiently filter and extract salt and minerals from the ocean". All she knew was it would be a lot easier than having to re-fill pots on the shore every day.

The door opened, the dingling of the bell attached to it (from the Twins, again) drawing her attention. Birna opened her mouth to give her usual greeting, but stopped when she saw James hurry in through the front door, shedding his large fur coat as he shut the door behind him. "Wind picked up pretty quickly, looks like it'll pass soon, though." He sighed as he wandered around the counter and took a seat. "I got the horses settled in, don't worry. These warming enchantments are amazing."

Yes, they were. After the street lamps, which Birna was rather proud of for helping with, the Twins had taken to placing similar enchantments in every building as well. Now Birna could walk around her own home without ten pounds of fur on her. It felt heavenly. It also meant they were able to BUY HORSES. She'd been renting wagon services out of Whiterun for nearly all her trips, having to pay a little extra to not bring the wagon's actual owners along so she could save on space whenever she'd borrow it, then have to return it within a few days. Now, they had two horses and a wagon of their own sitting in the other addition to the store, a stables building also made from stone, protected from the weather. The horses were not the best, but for the price were well worth the investment.

Birna's gaze drifted back to James, who was sitting and eating some meat he had probably gotten from Dagur before he came in. James was Imperial, of Nibenean descent, he claimed. He had the sharp features that you'd expect from them, but he was hardier than what she would usually think of Imperial men being, with good muscles from hard labor. He lacked a beard, but had shoulder-length dark brown hair.

" _I always wanted to help run a store,"_ he'd said when Birna had first met him. " _My parents are priests, but I never felt close to the gods. I just wanted to feel like I was actually_ doing _something with my life."_

It was lucky he'd been passing through Whiterun when she was doing one of her trading trips, right around the time she'd been needing to hire help to keep up with how much the Twins had been selling her. He took to shopkeeping like a fish to water, and always listened to her. Her brother could stand to learn a lot from him.

"So I saw we had another customer earlier, this one looked like they bought a lot," the man commented, setting down his plate.

Birna nodded. "Said they'd come from Dawnstar, actually."

James looked up at her in surprise and hope. "Really?"

He was right to be excited. They may have been the first serious looking trader, but she was hoping that soon it would be other traders and merchants visiting _her_ store instead of her having to always go to Whiterun to sell. Birna's Oddments was slowly becoming a known name to merchants, with how much she'd sold through the Twins.

"I say that calls for a drink," Birna said with a smile, pulling out a bottle of nord mead. James hurriedly grabbed two cups, and held them as she poured. They held up their drinks. "To success and septims!" Birna toasted, knocking her cup against his.

* * *

"You can't do this to me! I've lived here for years!" Malur pleaded to Jarl Kraldar. To the side, Thonjolf merely rolled his eyes. His words did little to stir any remorse in either Nord.

Malur Seloth stood in the center of the Jarl's Longhouse, in front of Jarl Kraldar and his housecarl, Thonjolf. This was a situation none present desired to be having, but was necessary by the Jarl's measure.

Kraldar sighed, but when he looked down at the man, his eyes turned to steel. "I am the Jarl of Winterhold. I must look after my people, and I hold them to their words. You have failed, time and time again, to hold yours."

The problem was that Seloth was simply… useless. He had no job, boasted no skills, was not a warrior, had no connections, had very little money, and frequently lazed about. During all of the reconstruction of Winterhold, Malur was passed from project to project to assist in whatever way he could, often meaning physical labor. However, he would always be attempting to sneak off, dodge tasks given to him, convince others to do his work, or take frequent "breaks". What little work he actually did was crude and slow, complaining constantly.

Kraldar did not think of himself as a cruel man, and he knew most of his people agreed. He had tried to give Malur a chance, many times. But when his Thanes, the guards, and other townsfolk pointed out how awful he was at doing much of anything, even after many warnings, Kraldar had to make a choice.

"I- surely, you can find me some other work to do?" the Dark Elf asked, his tone desperate. "I could handle giving out bounty jobs and rewards? Something?"

The choice was to let someone stay who clearly had no desire to work hard to push himself, no want to better the city and lives of those around him, to simply coast through his days, lying and avoiding any difficult work…

"There are others who can handle such tasks better and with more diligence than you," Kraldar shot down his attempts to bargain. "In addition, my Thanes have informed me you attempted to coerce them into stealing a staff from the mage Nelacar in order to make yourself appear to have ties with the College." Malur paled. "In the city of Winterhold, there is no place for someone who cannot hold his own weight, nor someone who would try to convince others to steal for them. By my order; you, Malur Seloth, are exiled from the city of Winterhold."

…or to have them removed from the city he had been putting his every effort in to restore. The dark man slumped his shoulders, seemingly going into shock.

"Guards!" Kraldar called. Two men stepped from the sides. They wore now their new uniforms, as designed by Birna and the Twins; their original design was deemed mostly fine barring a few major problems, mainly sleeves. All uniforms now had full thick sleeves that tucked into fur gauntlets. The spikes of the helmets were deemed "pointless" and shaved off before being turned to scrap. They topped it all off with thick white hooded cloaks. "Escort Malur Seloth to gather his things and then see him out the gate." The two nodded, placing hands on the Elf's shoulders, pushing him out the door.

Once they had left, Kraldar breathed a weary sigh. "This is not what I had envisioned when I took the title of Jarl… exiling my people like this," he lamented to his faithful housecarl, Thonjolf.

"Do not regret your actions, Jarl Kraldar," the man told him. "We could not hope for a painless process of restoring Winterhold."

"I don't." Kraldar returned. "The first hard decision I've had to make. Eight knows that it won't be the last." Not wanting to sit and ponder, he pushed himself up out of his chair, stepping out of the longhouse to stand at the front door.

The once familiar streets he'd known as a boy and a young man were now changed. Through the actions of his Thanes, they had changed from cobblestones to raised "pavement", they called it. With their stone magicks they had turned each street into roads, darkly colored solid rock that looked new and out of place when compared to the buildings that surrounded them, kept free from snow cover by the warmth of the street lamps.

Though, some of the buildings of his home had also changed. The destroyed homes, skeletons of the former glory of Winterhold, had been torn down and replaced with newer buildings. These included shops, houses for both families and bachelors. All empty bar the most basic of furniture, but they were here all the same. Hopefully it would encourage more newcomers to settle down, find a home in this place. The largest new addition was a large building near the front gate of the town, by the wall, a barracks for the guards. The roof nearly reached the height of the inside walls, and was nowhere near full. But they would need enough guards to fill it if the city were to keep growing. The Twins had also assured him they planned to renovate the old homes and buildings as well, when they had the time to move people's belongings out to do so.

And on these roads and in these buildings, Jarl Kraldar saw the faces of his people as they walked by, faces that bore smiles more and more often than he had ever seen. Faces that looked at the great changes that now was part of their lives and rejoiced. Faces that looked on at their fellow people with pride and thanks, for all had worked hard to see what beauty the city of Winterhold was growing to be.

A face that was reflected by Kraldar.

"It is magnificent, is it not, my Jarl?" Thonjolf said from his side.

Kraldar took a deep breath. Troubling though the matter of Malur was, he had to look forward to the future, for his people and himself. Winterhold would be the crown jewel of the north. The work was far from over.

"Yes… it is."

* * *

Nell was a simple man. He had come to Winterhold a year ago, before everything had changed. He was no farmer, nor a shopkeep, nor a great wizard, nor a stable hand. All he had was his sword and he knew how to use it. Being a guard for the city of Winterhold was never what anyone could call interesting. It was marching around in the snow, freezing your ass off, listening to the same arguments play out over and over by the people he was protecting.

He hated it. At 25, he was still a young man, but this was no way to live out his days. But what else was a man to do when he had no other way to make coin besides becoming a bandit? He'd swallowed his pride and did his duty, earning bare septims by the week. One day, he told himself, he'd earn enough to get out of this dead town and make something of himself.

It had been a day like any other, only he was on duty in the Jarl's Longhouse, listening to Jarl Korir moan about the mages again, when it had all happened. He saw Korir be torn down by the words of two young men he did not recognize, with the support of seemingly everyone else in the city too. Then they showed that letter signed by the Elder Council. Nell saw and was forced to agree, leaving the former Jarl to fend for himself as he was threatened by the men. He saw Kraldar get placed as the new Jarl, heard his words, his pledges to fix the city. Nell had snorted under his helmet. There was no hope for a city like this, new Jarl or not.

Then, everything changed.

Those two Bretons were true to their words, and every day Nell saw more people visit the city, saw the walls raise, saw the buildings be put up, saw the mages working together with the townsfolk, saw what he thought was a dream pop up around him.

And now here he was, standing in front of the closed gates of the city, a massive wall over him, his brother guards patrolling above him, warming magical lamps and his partner, Broer, beside him, and a city he barely recognized behind him. _Maybe,_ he thought, _I could stay here for a lot longer._

He was broken out of his thoughts when Broer elbowed him. Focusing, he saw 7 people in dark clothing approaching from down the road. As they drew closer, he could see that two of them were pale and dressed in finer clothing, while the ones behind looked like bandits themselves. Given the lateness of the hour, he gripped the handle of his axe warily.

"Halt, travelers," Broer said, stepping forward. "State your names and-"

A spike of ice shot out from one of the men's hands, stabbing into his partner's chest. He gasped, clutching at it, before the pale one had lunged forward and grabbed him, sinking his teeth into Broer's neck.

Nell looked up in time to see one of the bandits charge forward at him, an unnatural blue glow coming from him. The man moved sluggishly and jerkily, but was plenty strong as Nell blocked the sword with his shield, chopping the man's neck with his own axe, felling him in a strike. Frantically, Nell reached back with his left hand for the alarm bell that was placed in the wall, grabbing the rope and ringing it with all his might. He readied his axe, but could already tell he was too late. He swung, screaming, feeling it hit something solid, and the last thing he saw was two bloodied mouths with fangs and angry, yellow glowing eyes.

* * *

 **Hello hello hello! Thanks again for reading. Every time I see those traffic figures soar and that review count rise I write even harder to see them keep moving.**

 **No Omake this time, but there will be one next chapter. Any preferences for continuing the Overpowered Vs Concert story lines? Feel free to leave a review stating which one you wanna see first.**

 **Seriously though, thanks for reading this so far. We make this story for our enjoyment, but I love seeing other people enjoying it too. Take care now!**

 **-Waki**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Mikael and Aramen were standing in the Hall of Countenance in the College, leaned over an alchemy lab, several herbs and animal parts on the table beside them.

When they had selected their skill sets before they entered the world, both had discounted alchemy for simple fact that neither had much interest in the practice. In Oblivion, they'd often used it as a cheat to level up quickly; set Alchemy as a main skill, duplicate the ingredients with the inventory dupe glitch, make a shit load of potions and bob's your uncle. They hadn't had much use for it in Skyrim, though. That had changed as months went by in their magical studies. Mikael particularly was curious about the practice ever since he'd hit a wall in his latest enchanting projects and wanted to take a break.

What do you get if you stick an apple, a daedra heart, and bear claws into a cauldron? A disgusting soup. But stick those into an Alchemy Lab and you'll wind up with a potion that restores health and stamina. This was not the case in the days of Oblivion. All one needed was a mortar and pestle and you could cook up potions lickity split. More tools and higher quality made the potions better, as did skill. And that was the rub, wasn't it? The crafting systems in Skyrim and Oblivion were quite different but ultimately achieved the same result, the question was how. There hadn't been an enchanting table in Oblivion, just a little stand with magical candles on it. Whatever process the table did must be the same, or at least similar, to the properties of the candles. The alchemy lab already had a couple tools attached to the damn thing, but with more… magic? The lab itself seemed infused in it, as well as the carvings in the table top that looked like they were meant to channel something.

But what does skill with potions means? Beyond identifying the properties of each ingredient, if it's just mixing shit in a tube, how does one make better potions with higher levels? Sadly, the College lacked an alchemy instructor. All the teachers were at least passingly skilled with the practice, able to make basic potions fairly regularly, but this theory discussion left the few they'd spoken with unable to answer.

Aramen sighed. "Remember how much more complicated this was in 4?" he asked in vague terms.

"Yeah," Mikael agreed. "But I really miss the create-your-own-spell table."

"Would be super convenient for trying to mix some spells," Aramen sighed dejectedly. "Hell, maybe it would have helped us invent the new magic stuff like _Stoneshape_ as well, if it isn't limited, like things seem to be here."

"But back on the subject, yeah it seems simpler here but at the same time it doesn't seem to make much sense either way. Pop some stuff in the tubes and beakers and let it work with the stuff you give it. If we could figure out what really defines skill in an alchemist, we could knuckle down on the possibilities." Mikael pushed himself off the lab and paced slowly. "Wasn't there one shopkeeper who gives you that task of getting that special potion flask? He's gotta be master status if he's still alive."

"Even if he is, I doubt he'd have time to educate two strangers with his own apprentice around and his failing health," Aramen supplied.

"Maybe we could visit him next, the city's doing pretty well right now and we could afford to leave it be."

Just then, they heard the distant sound of a bell ringing very loudly before cutting off. It was a sound they both knew the meaning of.

Aramen immediately smacked his twin on the back of the head, both sprinting for the door, luckily they were already in their gear. "Just had to open your fucking mouth again."

* * *

They arrived at the gates in short order, climbing the steps to the top of the battlements quickly. Below, in the light from the lamps, they saw the dead bodies of the gate guards, and six enemies, two of whom they immediately recognized as vampires from their clothing. That meant the rest must be their thralls. That image was helped by the fact that one clearly had several arrows sticking in painful places but didn't react to them. Atop the walls, four guards with bows shot down at them, ducking behind the parapets for cover as the vampires shot various magic spells back. One guard sat against the wall, bleeding. Aramen crouched down and cast some healing while Mikael threw up a ward.

"Thank you, Thanes," the injured man said as his wounds stitched close.

"Just keep down, mate. We'll handle things from here," Mikael assured him. He turned to his twin and nodded.

Mikael immediately threw a wave of fire down at the enemies, but one that did little damage. The main point was to separate the thralls from the vampires, as they had dodged wide of his flames. Aramen pulled out his crossbow, popping off one shot at one of the vampires, taking satisfaction as the bolt imbedded into the side of one of the bastards. Then he leapt down, Dawnbreaker gleaming with light, surprising the two pale interlopers and causing them to shrink away slightly, though still readying their weapons.

Meanwhile, Mikael focused intently and gathered his magic, conjuring three wolves into existence onto the ground below. The ghostly canines all growled and immediately charged at the risen bandits, darting past and swiping with claws at their feet too quickly for the animated corpses to attack properly, leaving them mostly swinging at air. While that happened, the archers on the wall were able to score more effective shots on their targets, two of the men collapsing to ashes as their bodies were perforated with arrows.

Aramen swung his claymore in a wide arc, keeping his enemies at distance while he charged up a _push_. He released the force at the healthier one, knocking him prone a few feet back. The injured one's left hand glowed with dark red light as he extended it towards the ranger, who felt his life slowly ebb and drain towards the yellow-eyed creature. Aramen took exception to this and charged the attacker, the vampire just barely avoiding being cleaved in two, instead receiving a deep cut along his stomach that burned his undead flesh. The short Breton deflected his retaliatory strikes, but took a large cut to his side. He sidestepped an ice chunk hurled his way by the recovered vampire. In a shocking move to the undead, he shoulder checked the closest one, knocking it into the ground while he released Dawnbreaker with his left hand and pulled the dagger from his vest, thrusting it into the chin and brain of his foe, then grabbed the body as cover when another ice spike hurtled towards him. The ranger pushed the corpse off him, rolling to his feet, eyes focused on his remaining enemy.

One of the ghost wolves was chopped by an axe and dispersed, leaving the other two to continue harassing the enemies. Mikael charged another spell, this one of lightning. With both hands, he fired a bolt at the closest thrall, but the bolt jumped from one to the other to the other to the other. The chained lightning staggered the quartet of dead men, whereupon his wolves jumped and toppled two of them over, jaws closing around the jugulars of them both, turning to ash. The other two were merely shot down by the archers, collapsing into dust as well. The wolves gave a triumphant howl and faded.

Aramen's blade danced with his opponent's. The vampire stabbed directly at his heart, but Aramen twisted out of the way, using the momentum to bring his sword around for a cleave. In a flash of light, the blade chopped off the left arm of the undead, leaving him shouting in pain. In a fit of fury and animalistic agony, the vampire tackled the shorter man. Aramen grabbed the man's grasping hand while his other gripped the throat of the creature, who was pushing all his might into trying to lean down and bite into his prey's neck. Aramen was surprised by the strength of the beast, but had a flash of remembering that vampires _were_ tough sons of bitches, a thought that passed quickly while he focused on keeping the thing off of him. From the side, he saw a fist thunder towards the creature's head, slamming into it with a loud CRACK! As the beast's skull fractured. Mikael hauled his twin to his feat, rubbing his dragon knuckles. The thing charged at him this time, and Mikael moved into the punch, swinging the vampire around in his grasp and throwing it back. While he did this, Mikael's hands had blazed with fire, and the vampire's arm was severely burned by the time he let go. It stumbled back, then looked at the burns with pained confusion, failing to notice Aramen's blade come down and split its fragile skull open. It fell ungracefully to the ground.

The two watched as both vampire bodies rapidly decomposed and turned to dust in about two minutes, leaving only their clothes and weapons behind besides. With a shrug, they collected it all, putting the dust into separate pouches.

Mikael sighed deeply. "Fucking shit."

"Yeah. First casualties of Winterhold in a long time," Aramen agreed. "And the vampires? Guess we know what we have to do next."

"If only to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"My Thanes!" The Twins turned to see the gate opening, Lydia sprinting out from it, sword in hand. "Are there any more enemies?"

Mikael shook his head. "Don't worry, we took them all out"

She noticed the wound in Aramen's side. "You're hurt."

"Yeah yeah," he waved a hand dismissively as his other starting healing himself. "Hey Lydia, can you go get the Jarl, ask him if we can call a little council meeting in an hour?"

She looked hesitant, but nodded and sheathed her blade, heading back inside the city. Aramen turned to the nearest guard. "Salvage what you can off the bod- er, dust piles. We gotta go." The Twins headed back into the city, sighing. It was time to pack their things.

* * *

Gathered around the table in the Jarl's Longhouse was the usual group: Kraldar, Birna, Tolfdir, Dagur, and Thonjolf. This time, they were joined by Lydia and the Thanes, looking quite serious.

Kraldar spoke first. "We are all aware what happened at the gate this evening. However, our Thanes have more to say on the matter."

"Indeed, Jarl Kraldar," Mikael picked up. "We believe these vampires came from a larger conclave of vampires, given their matching finery. We suspect that the conclave has sent out similar attacks on other towns."

"And if two of them posed such a threat, who knows what they could do if they decided to attack in force?" Aramen picked up. "While I'm sure some of the College mages would turn them into ash with little issue, we wouldn't want this to become a siege. Not to mention how this would toll in lives as the guard gets picked off. Which reminds me," Aramen removed his money pouch from his belt and placed it on the table. "Funds to hire more guards and some equipment, Jarl Kraldar. This is all we have until the Bards College sends us our revenue, though we'll be gone by then. Also, we'll need to send a letter to Erandur of Dawnstar. He is a priest of Mara, and gods know we could use some holy power against these buggers. Plus, we've had that empty temple building made up just waiting for someone to come along. He'll do nicely."

"Gone? For what reason are you leaving?" Dagur questioned. "We need you here to help fight off future attacks."

"We'll be leaving to cut off the attacks at the source. With the rise of vampire attacks, a group called the Dawnguard have risen to combat them, and their home base is here," Mikael explained. He pointed to the map on the table, down on the south eastern edge beyond Riften. "A group of hunters specialized in killing vampires. We heard tales of their soldiers going across Skyrim looking for recruits. We can join up with them and take out whoever is behind these attacks." He stood up straight, his gaze sweeping over the room. "We have no idea how long this hunt could last. It could be months easily."

"Perhaps we're all overreacting," Tolfdir suggested. "Just because we had one attack does not mean we have an army knocking on our gate."

"Indeed, how do you know there are more attacks going on?" Thonjolf pushed.

Aramen looked over the the woman at the table. "Birna?"

The shopkeep looked surprised at the obvious prompting. "Well, now that you mention it, some of the merchants passing through have told of rumors regarding growing vampire attacks."

Aramen nodded. "There's no two ways about it. These guys are a threat, and we're going to take them out. But fear not, I'm confident we'll be drawing enough of their attention that they won't come back for round two if we do this right. And furthermore, we can't realistically be expected to defend the city every day."

"But," Mikael spoke before anyone could get started, "we will be going alone."

"My Thanes?" Lydia asked, confused.

"Lydia will be staying here to aid in the defense of the city." He turned and gave her a look that clearly said _we'll talk about this later_ and continued. "Jarl Kraldar, we are certain this is the right course of action. We've packed our belongings and will be heading off in the morning."

Kraldar remained silent for a moment, brow furrowed in thought as he processed everything the Twins had said. "Then I wish you both save travels." He turned and walked back to his throne, Thonjolf joining him. Everyone else parted ways, Lydia following the Twins up to the College to their rooms.

"So, Lydia, sorry to spring this on you so suddenly," Aramen began, leaning against his bed while Mikael sat down at the table. "But our enemies at the gates didn't give us much time to discuss matters. Simple fact is that we need you here while we're away."

"Are you sure, my Thane?" she asked concernedly. "If there are as many of these vampires as you claim, I would rather be there to protect you if they attacked."

Mikael and Aramen sighed, but smiled still. The old Lydia would've simply agreed to disband and head back to Whiterun and wait for the main character. But then again, the old Lydia also wouldn't have told jokes. She wouldn't have learned so much about magic and alchemy, even if she didn't practice it herself. She wouldn't have learned so much about the world or about proper adventuring. She'd come a long way. For that reason, the Twins were proud.

"You're the best soldier and fighter that Winterhold has right now. Discounting some of the mages here at the tower, you're the best bet at driving off whatever bastards want to have a go at Winterhold," Mikael told her. "If it weren't from the fact that you're a housecarl of Whiterun, I'm sure Kraldar would've made you captain of the guard." Lydia stood taller at the statement.

"Then, by your leave, I shall continue my duties here."

They both gave her a satisfied nod, before growing more serious. "Now, don't let anyone order you around. You're not a resident here, nor a servant of Winterhold," Mikael told her in a low voice. "The only person who can give you any flak or tell you to do something is Kraldar, since we're pledged to him. Anyone else can piss off if they think they can command you." Lydia nodded. "And keep an eye on that Ancano bastard. He's no good, I promise you that. Don't be obvious about it, but always be mindful of yourself when he's around, or anytime you're in the College."

"But most importantly," the Twins spoke in unison now, "stay alive."

The housecarl nodded once more. "I shall. And you as well, my Thanes."

Aramen pushed off his bed and retrieved a bottle of San's Spiced Wine from the shelf, pouring it into three goblets. They each took one in hand. "It's been nearly a year since you joined us, Lydia, and that was almost two weeks after we arrived in Skyrim," he said. "How much we've learned in such relatively little time. How much we've still yet to do and learn." He raised his glass prompting the other two to follow. "Here's to us!"

"To us!" They repeated, and they all drained their cups.

* * *

It was a bizarre experience departing this time, was the general thought from the Twins as they left Winterhold. They were ready to just hop the carriage and be on their way, but when they came down from the college to the main gate, most every citizen was there. A few of the mages from their class, the new students, and Tolfdir. Even some of the guards off duty came out to wish them well. Dagur gave them some preserved meat for the road, Birna gave them a small pouch of salt, Tolfdir brought four healing potions, and everyone else was wishing them well.

They didn't want to make a production of it, though, so the Twins just kept moving through the crowd, giving thanks and accepting the gifts and returning greetings. In short order, they hopped on board the carriage and were off. As soon as they were settled, Mikael whipped out a book that was mostly blank.

"I'll get some more writing done," he told Aramen, who nodded and started practicing magic again.

Mikael was engaging in the shameless act of cultural appropriation, or as some may call it; plagiarism. Another venture of theirs was to re-write some works of literature and sell them off to the world. While the world wouldn't be ready for _The Martian_ or other sci-fi for possibly millennia, it still left them plenty of options like the _Eragon_ and _Game of Thrones_ series. More obviously was the works of the bard himself, Shakespeare. Mikael was currently transcribing as much as he could remember of _Romeo and Juliet_ into book format. It was something he preferred to tackle in the time between other projects. At the rate he was going, he may have all the Shakespeare plays he could remember copied into Tamriel in about… five years or so, assuming he didn't hop between writing different series.

Still, good books are good books and this world could do for more works of fiction, and the Twins could always do for more gold.

* * *

"Yeah, just let us off here and meet us at the mill."

"Very well," the driver said, tugging the reins around and heading west.

Mikael and Aramen currently stood in the hold of Eastmarch, in the swampy land to the south. They had come here for one very important reason.

"Your corpses will make fine servants!" shouted a necromancer, running out from behind a rock and hurling an ice spike at them.

...and this was not that reason. Aramen leapt to the side while Mikael clumsily batted it away with an angled ward, the ice impacting and causing a burst of steam to rise up. Another necromancer and their skeleton minion loudly announced their presence from behind them.

"You got the undead-killing sword," Mikael pointed out. Aramen rolled his eyes, drawing Dawnbreaker and lunging at the duo. Mikale focused on his own opponent.

The shorter Breton simply cleaved the brittle boned bastard with blade in his opening slash, shocking the black-robed mage considerably. He barely had time to cast a hasty ward before the ranger was on him, his sword pressing down on the translucent shield, before he suddenly let up, causing the necromancer to stumble forward. Aramen kicked the man's feet out from under him, knocking him to the ground. A brutal curb stomp ended his gasping.

The taller brother, meanwhile, ran forward with his own ward hovering in front of him, his foe throwing more ice spells his way. Upon reaching him, Mikael grabbed the other mage's hands and began bending his fingers and wrists back, startling the enemy with such an unconventional attack. While he did so, Mikael was pumping ice magic through their connected hands, numbing and freezing the cells of his opponent. The necromancer struggled to pull away, but his hands were held too tightly. Then in rapid succession: Mikael yanked the other man's hands back, shattering them as they had been almost completely iced; head-butted him with his ebony helmet, spat fire out of his mouth into the other's face, causing him to flinch and turn away, then delivered a nasty right hook with his now available hand, the dragonbone knuckles easily demonstrating their density as the man's skull caved, dropping him to the ground.

Aramen trudged over, sword on one shoulder. "Must you take so long?"

"Hey, I'm experimenting here," he told him back. "Gotta test stuff out, you know. On that note," Mikael conjured a spectral dagger in his hand, only one that looked solid and daedric like the ones from Oblivion, and hurled it off to his left, where another necromancer could be seen approaching.

The sneaky wizard could hardly claim to be a knife-throwing expert, but luckily with a bit of telekinetic guidance and practice, the blade hit home in the man's throat before he could know what the fuck was up, simply flailing and gurgling before falling.

They quickly gathered the corpses, looted them, and burned them. They hadn't realized they'd stopped so close to the Ritual Site, but it didn't matter much. They simply walked a few hundred feet south and set down there. After a sweep with a life detection spell, the two disrobed into their underpants and accomplished what they came here to do.

Hot spring soaking.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh that's a good spring," Aramen sighed as he sank into the water, winding up submerged up to his chest. Mikael sat opposite him, the water reaching his ribs until he slumped back.

"Yeah this is really nice. Shame people don't realize how awesome hot springs are," Mikael lamented.

"Well, we could maybe buy this land and turn it into a resort? We should be able to afford it if we save over the next couple months," Aramen replied, then paused in thought. "Ah wait, crap, this is Eastmarch. Held by Jarl Ulfric. Fat chance of us getting building permits from him."

"Hmm…" Mikael contemplated for a moment. "We cooouuuulllld potentially find someone and have them buy it on our behalf? It'd have to be somebody trustworthy."

"A project for another day."

They both relaxed for several more minutes, just enjoying their soaking in the water.

"Those necromancers were pretty piss-weak, wouldn't you say?"

Aramen sighed, "I know, kinda feel bad about saying it though. It feels wrong being this casual about killing. But we are in a weird situation here. The bandit population of a video game without the game physics. Turn out that robes really ain't much when put against some guy swinging a sword blessed by a god at your face."

"At least the necromancers in Cyrodil had the smart idea of conjuring themselves some bloody armor before they went into a tussle. Then again, that's not exactly limited to just necros. All bandit mages seem to be just relying on their cheap-ass enchanted robes against the player, even if they're charging in full plate. Pretentious morons think because they can toss a few lightning bolts or sacrifice a random peasant they're somehow immune to cold steel."

"M' not even sure why they are out here doing this. Sure necromancy is frowned upon here, but not illegal. Not like there is a shortage of bandits for them to experiment on instead of random farmers." Aramen paused to stretch. "Honestly it all seems like such a waste. Necromancy could be so useful if everyone involved would quit acting like a bunch of edgy rebellious teens."

Mikael sat up, concentrating. "Yeah, like what was that one story you told me about, that lich dude who made the kingdom?"

"The Millennial King"

"That's the one!" he snapped his fingers. "Bloody utopic kingdom run by a grandfatherly lich who made undead do menial labor like farming and whatnot, and people liked him so they donated their bodies to him after death and over time it became a super prosperous country. What if we could just rewrite that and publish it along with the other stuff? Put the idea out there, get people thinking."

Aramen scratched his chin while pausing for thought "I can't imagine it would be terribly popular, but then again it doesn't really need to be. Necromancers are pretty much the targeted demographic and a short description at the front of a book of an ultra powerful necromancer king should pull in their attention. We can only hope they use the inspiration for good."

"Or maybe… _we_ could use that inspiration for good." Mikael grinned evilly at his twin and started chuckling a deep and menacing chuckle.

A quick swipe of the hand signalled his twin's intent to nix the idea "Regardless of intention, anyone using necromancy will be regarded with suspicion and fear. No matter the potential pay off others will not see it. We will be fighting the whole way and unless we plan to conquer the world by force all it will do is make it much harder to get our other ideas implemented. Right now we are loved, but the public is a fickle thing easily steered by whatever hate-mongering idiot is shouting the loudest. Best we let others test the waters, we can even offer minor support, but we can not be publically connected to any kind of movement like that until it gains a bit more momentum."

Mikael looked a bit put-out to miss an opportunity to evil laugh, but recovered gamely. "I dunno about our particular public being fickle. Trust strongly earned is lost with difficulty. It's the rest of the world outside of Winterhold I'd be wary of." He sighed and slapped his own cheeks. "Whatever. We've sat long enough. Should probably get going, eh?"

Aramen nodded, both standing and causing steam to roll off their bodies as they used fire magic to evaporate all the moisture clinging to them.

* * *

Evening was well underway by the time they arrived through the tunnel entrance towards the fort. The Twins ignored Agmaer's nervous chatter on their trek up to Fort Dawnguard. The boy was just looking to ease his nerves with the sounds of conversation and so they felt no need to respond. Each instead spent their walk eyeing the fortress and surrounding hills as spots for potential improvement. Of course, the fort would be upgraded with or without their input, but they could improve upon those as well.

Durak stood by the campfire, practicing his aim on a few targets. The Orc's eyes tracked them as they walked by, taking note of their appearances and spotting Aramen's crossbow, grunting in approval before turning back to his target. Soon they saw the front door man, Celann.

"Well, wish me luck," Agmaer told them.

"Lad," Mikael spoke with the tone of a patient teacher, "just take a deep breath. The leader of the Dawnguard will no doubt see your inexperience, but he likely won't turn away an honest recruit. Get your head on straight, be honest, and be willing to listen and learn."

The little speech didn't seem to calm the young Nord, but he nodded all the same and took a deep breath.

"New recruits?" Celann said. "Isran will decide if you got what it takes. Go on, he's right inside."

Coming inside, they were greeted with the familiar scene of Isran talking with tolan of the Vigilants. It was the same beats as before, Tolan telling Isran that the vampires just about wiped them out and while Isran starts with condescension and derision before giving way to sympathy and somberness. Nothing like hearing a bunch of people you wanted petty vengeance against were massacred to make you feel like a heel.

Isran caught notice of them standing there and narrowed his eyes. "So, who are you? Why are you here?"

"There's some bad vampires causing a ruckus around the country, and we hear this is where we can go to deal with them," Aramen offered.

"You're right about that," the Redguard told them. "This is the headquarters of the Dawnguard. Well, it used to be, a long time ago." He gestured around. "As you can see, we have some work to do to restore it to its former glory. But maybe you wanna help me with that?"

"That's why we're here," Mikael told him from under his hood and helmet.

"I need someone out in the field, taking the fight to the damn vampires, while we're getting the fort back in shape… Tolan was telling me about some cave that the Vigilants were poking around in. Seemed to think it was related to these recent vampire attacks." He turned to the Vigilant. "Tolan, tell them about, what was it, Dimhollow?"

Tolan shifted his gaze to the new arrivals. "Yes, that's it. Dimhollow Crypt. Brother Adalvald was sure it held some long-lost vampire artifact of some kind." He shook his head, looking at the floor. "We didn't listen to him any more than we did Isran. He was at the Hall when it was attacked…"

"That's good enough for me. Go see what the vampires were looking for in this Dimhollow Crypt. With any luck, they'll still be there. I'd offer you a crossbow, but it looks like you already have a good one."

Aramen smirked and drew it. "Modified steel. Was wanting to make one from dragon bone, but I haven't had time to work the designs. Wanted some better eyes on them before I started building."

Isran's eyes glinted. "Feel free to look around the fort and take what you need. There isn't much yet, but you're welcome to anything you can use."

"I'll meet you at Dimhollow. It's the least I can do to avenge my fallen comrades," Tolan told them.

"Tolan, I don't think that's a good idea. You vigilants were never trained for-"

"I know what you think of us," the Nord cut him off. "You think we're soft, that we're cowards. You think our deaths proved our weakness. Stendarr grant that you do not have to face the same test and be found wanting." He looked back to the Twins. "I'm going to Dimhollow Crpyt. Perhaps I can be of some small assistance to you."

"And going off and getting yourself killed for wounded pride is exactly what your friends would've wanted you to do, instead of gathering some support and fighting with some allies?" Mikael shot at him. "Don't be a fool."

Tolan flinched, threw an angry scowl over his shoulder, and marched out the door, the doors slamming behind him.

"Damn idiot going to become a plaything for those damned vampires," Aramen sighed. Isran grunted agreeably. "We'll be heading off immediately."

Isran nodded. "You, boy, stop skulking in the shadows and step forward."

Mikael cast a light calming spell at Agmaer as they walked out the door. "Alright, we've got some spelunking to do…"

* * *

OMAKE: THE OVERPOWERED TRIO CONTINUES!

Somewhere in Skyrim stood a very tall ebony tower, seemingly carved from one massive stone. It wasn't there a week ago. Yet still, it existed. Surrounding the tower were dozens of dragons; some flying, others lying around on the grass and hills that dotted the nearby landscape. None, however, ventured within a hundred feet of the massive monolith, some out of fear and some out of respect.

Inside was filled with hundreds of dazzling lights and expensive tapestries and furniture and many gold septims. There were many rooms; most of which were unused, but one that was currently occupied was a meeting hall of sorts. Two Bretons and a Nord stood at a table, looking over a map of the country. Each of them carried a visible corona of power, an almost physical in its weight and presence.

"Right, it's high time we dealt with the dragon situation," Mikael prompted.

"Agreed, it's been almost a whole two days and we haven't addressed them," Aramen stated with some frustration.

After Alduin was punched out of existence, the remaining dragons circled in on the most prominent and visible symbol of the Twins' and Lydia's presence, that being their outpost planted atop an old ruined fort. A couple had first tried seeking revenge on them for killing their leader. Their bones had shredded into the earth and left gaping holes in the ground from where they had been completed blasted apart. The rest swiftly understood the new pecking order and were looking to both shield themselves from the many human entities that wished to take their over revenge against dragons in general for their destruction of many towns and people as well as seek to serve the new clear head honchos.

"Lydia, your thoughts?"

The Nord woman rubbed her chin. "Well my Thanes, since we aren't going to kill them all, we should at least create some kind of sanctuary for them. Keeps the rest of the world out and the dragons safe and free… mostly."

"A fine idea," Mikael agreed. He linked hands with his brother and they both closed their eyes.

Outside, the dragons were shocked by the sudden appearance of large black spires shooting out from the ground a couple miles away from the tower in every direction. They reached high into the sky, taller than the outpost itself, reaching thousands of feet in height. The bottom hundred feet of the spires connected to each other, forming a wall. Above them, the spires connected like a checkerboard every hundred feet or so, leaving gaps and causing it to look like a massive black coliseum without seating. Magic runes, plainly visible due to their blue glow, shone on nearly every inch of the creation.

The Twins opened their eyes. "That should give them plenty of room to relax and dissuade any attackers. They can come and go as they please, but they'll be tagged with trackers and if they cause a ruckus they'll be shocked into unconsciousness," Aramen explained.

"Now, how about the civil war?" Mikael gestured to the map, causing it to light up. All across the canvas, blue and red dots sprang up, representing the current position and number of each sides' forces. Their respective holds and town were highlighted.

Aramen sighed and rubbed his brow.

* * *

 **Aha! See? I promised return of the Omake and I keep my promises. A short one, sure, but we'll see more badassery to come.**

 **View counts been steadily rising as more chapters get put out, which rocks. Seen a bunch of you favorite and follow this story, which rocks more. Reviews still rare, but rock hard when they do show up.**

 **Regardless, thanks again for tuning in and we will see you again next time.**

 **-Waki**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

A spike of lightning pierced the sky, the thunder following a few seconds after.

"5 seconds. S'getting closer," Mikael commented from under his hood, staring intently at his hands.

The Twins had made their way back to the carriage in front of Riften for a lift back towards Whiterun, it being one of the closer cities to Dimhollow Crypt. Of course, the moment they'd set out on the journey, the storm hit. They'd had to offer the carriage driver one of their modified weather cloaks with heating elements to persuade him not to turn back to riften to wait out the storm. Mikael in particular was bummed because he couldn't spend this time catching up on writing, so the two merely went back to testing small-scale magic.

"Aye. I hope it passes us by, but it doesn't look like it will. We won't be making good time in this weather, so settle in," commented their coachman from the front.

"Yeah, yeah," they commented in unison.

The two were quite distracted because at the moment, they were experimenting on magic and both were very eager and to see results soon.

Aramen held a single septim in his left hand. Purple magic swirled around it until it finally disappeared in a smokey wisp. Mikael's septim did the same. After a moment, the magic gathered in their hands once again, and their coins appeared in their other hand. Aramen's was bent and crushed at strange angles, while Mikael's was partially melted and warm.

Aramen sighed frustratedly, tossing his coin over his shoulder. "What are we doing wrong? We're not putting too much magic in, far as I can tell."

They were attempting to place objects in an extra-dimensional pocket space, as a way of making their own "Inventory" to ease their travel load and give them more tricks to work with. Because why worry about how you're going to carry twelve wheels of cheese in your backpack when you could worry about how to keep yourself from taking everything that isn't nailed down?

"Maybe we're just not picturing our pocket space accurately? Or something?" Mikael offered, staring at his own ruined currency. "At least it seems like we're screwing up in different ways, which is a good sign. Means we'll get to the answer twice as fast." He tossed the coin away as well, another in a long line of destroyed coins to be. They took another two from their coin pouch and started concentrating again.

* * *

Falk Firebeard was out for a walk, as usual. He had stopped by the market and made small talk with the folk, as usual. Then he'd back towards the Blue Palace, while making a short stop, as usual. And he'd quietly slipped behind Bryling's house, where she had been waiting, as usual.

And she turned, a smile blooming on her face as he moved to embrace her, their lips meeting and warming his heart, as usual.

Bryling broke off after a moment. "Falk, you shouldn't have come. You know what'd happen if people found out about us," she said in a quiet voice

Falk joined his hand with hers. "I know, my lady. I just needed to see you outside of court, away from all of the politics."

"I'm serious. If Erikur knew about us, he'd force you to resign from your position. And without you, he'd have the Jarl bent around his little finger," she said with distaste.

Falk smothered a scowl at the man's mention. "You're right, of course. But when this war is over, I'll gladly resign and we can stop sneaking around like this."

"One more reason to pray for the fighting to end then, my love."

They kissed once more, then Bryling went back into her house, Falk staying a moment and watching her go, before allowing himself to slump where none could see. He didn't like to admit it, least of all to himself, but it felt sometimes that the walls were closing in on him in the Blue Palace.

Ever since High King Torygg was murdered by that damned Ulfric Stormcloak, far more responsibility fell on his shoulders than would normally concern a steward. Jarl Elisif was his Jarl, and had legitimate claim to be High Queen of Skyrim, if supported by the other thanes, but… she was young. Young and inexperienced. She listened to his advice, but far too many others as well. It sometimes felt that she wasn't the one making decisions, but rather just voicing her court's many opinions. She was kind and passive by nature, a virtue for for many but not for a Jarl. She didn't know how to lead, but she tried to care for her people, which is more than can be said for some other Jarls. So whatever troubles and crimes that come forward, it was his duty to sort them and deal with them.

Then there were the Imperials themselves. Jarl Elisif supported them, and he supported her, and that's all that need be said to any who questioned his loyalties. But… the Imperials seemed only to take from Haafingar and not give back. Whether it be food, metal, their time, their men, or gold, they drained it all for the war effort. Their troops held the Stormcloaks at bay, 'tis true, but they seemed to dismiss Jarl Elisif entirely. Many times had Jarl Elisif asked him to schedule appointments with General Tullius to discuss the city, the war, any number of important matters. And every time, the General had pushed off or canceled the meeting. It wasn't right that the man couldn't spare a single hour to talk with the Jarl. But, as he'd told Jarl Elisif, "'Fair' is a word rarely applied to politics".

And of course, the rest of the court. Some days he felt the urge to punch everyone who opened their mouth in the Blue Palace aside from his Jarl and Elisif. Sybille, the smug witch who taunted and threatened him with the knowledge of his and Bryling's love. Erikur, who spouted treason when he thought none could hear and made countless illegal dealings right under the Jarl's nose. At least Bolgeir was an honorable man, perhaps the only man he knew that would protect Jarl Elisif at cost of his own life without hesitation.

Like himself.

It was reasons like these that led to him taking these walks into the city, where he could enjoy the breeze of his homeland and see the blue sky above. He enjoyed the quiet hum of the city at work, letting him clear his head. He took a deep breath, then turned and walked from behind the house and back to the main road.

It was not but a moment later that he saw the door to the Hall of the Dead burst open, and Styrr emerge from it, moving quickly. Falk felt the hair on the back of his neck stand. A priest of that age would have no cause to move so fast unless there was something very wrong. He spotted Falk, eyes wide, and approached him, slightly out of breath

"Priest, what is wrong?" Falk asked, one hand on his shoulder.

The older Nord paused to collect himself. "Falk… there is a darkness in the Hall of the Dead."

His blood went cold.

* * *

Mirabelle Ervine sat in the courtyard of the College, pouring over her notes. She'd been there for well over three hours now, but she couldn't pry herself away from the problem she was facing.

"Why isn't there any study about teleportation in the College?"

The Twins had asked that question shortly before their departure to go deal with the vampire problem and it was one that she was quite stuck on. Because the answer was quite simple; no one but the Arch-Mage dabbled in such magics.

To even begin to try and study teleportation, one had to be incredibly well-versed in conjuration and alteration magic. Years of study into each field at the least. The mere concept of being able to move oneself from one place to another in the blink of an eye was something most minds couldn't grasp, let alone try to accomplish. A power that one could only hear of in a rumor of a rumor of ever being used by some evil wizard in a far away crypt. Still, the magic existed and could be wielded by one truly skilled.

So yes, the answer was simple. But the truer question was, why had she never tried to learn it?

Mirabelle was in charge of most of the day-to-day operations of the College, handling the young apprentices' introductions, checking in with each of the scholars and teachers, sending orders for food and other such supplies, and maintaining the Arch-Mage's schedule. But she was also the second most talented wizard in the entire College. She'd been a member for over forty years. Yet she had never once made an attempt to dive into the study of teleportation magic. It was an unacceptable failure on her part. There was no excuse of the magic not being known of or conceived; it was just a plain failure to think, pure and simple. It was one that disgruntled her greatly. How could she hope to teach and pass on knowledge to her students and fellow scholars if she couldn't be bothered to explore magic more?

Indeed, this was somewhat indicative of her behavior of the past couple years. Her knowledge of magic had plateaued years ago when she had read all that was available in the library and could no longer find new theories or ideas to provide inspiration for new study. Accompanied by her growing responsibilities at the time, she'd simply let herself slip and only bothered to go over studies she already knew to keep herself from declining. It wasn't something she was proud of. It was also a feeling she knew her fellow scholars shared, to a degree. The college had been in a rut for a long time, until the day those five apprentices walked through the doors those many months ago.

With the Twins accelerated education schedule and constant barrage of plans, ideas, and theories, the center of learning had roared back to life and presented so many wonderful mysteries to tackle for the wizards within. Which was what sat in front of her now; her notes on the study of teleportation. She was starting from the ground up on the subject, as little to nothing existed in written books about such things. Though Mirabelle knew she could have asked the Arch-Mage for his help, she knew that he was a very busy man, particularly these days. Savos was deeply engrossed in his own testing and studies and it was never smart to interrupt a wizard while they were experimenting.

"Ah, how lovely to see you again, Mirabelle," she heard a voice say from her left. Raising her head from her book, she saw Tolfdir emerging from the Hall of Elements with a backpack slung on his back, followed similarly by Faralda and Urag Gro-Shub.

"Tolfdir," she greeted without a smile but with a friendly tone. The old man was one of the few people that had been here longer than she had, and he was always kind to her. "I see you are leaving. Where are you going?"

"Arch-Mage Savos has decided that it's high time we explore the ruins of Saarthal," he explained. "It could be an excellent learning opportunity for the students. We're going on ahead to verify the ruin and make sure it isn't too dangerous. We should be back within two weeks or so at the latest."

"I see," she said. "Travel safely."

Tolfdir chuckled, casting a feather spell on the three of them to ease their burdens. "Oh, I hope we shall. Take care while we're away, and you may want to check in on our new students, there looks like there may be a fight when we were leaving…" With that, the three made their way to the bridge.

Indeed, they had gotten two more new apprentices into the College over the last two days, making the total up to ten if they included Aramen and Mikael. It was an atmosphere that bred creativity and learning, but also plenty of heated debates that ended with someone being set on fire.

Mirabelle sighed. The mysteries of the arcane would have to wait for another day.

* * *

It was a small mercy that the weather cleared by the time the Twins' carriage had made it to Whiterun. They were only pausing for an hour by the stables to take care of the horses and have a bite to eat. Their driver was tending to the former whilst they prepared the latter. Dried rations smeared with whatever edible and non-perishable herb they could find was unpalatable, but sadly they doubted that even if they managed to get their inventory spell working properly, they would be able to suspend time and keep food fresh in there as well.

While Aramen cut their dried meat, a courier came running down from the gates of Whiterun towards them.

"Hey there, got a message for you two," he told them, not even winded.

"Yeah? Let's have it," Aramen said, glancing up from his work.

The courier handed Mikael a somewhat ornate looking letter with some kind of wax seal on it. "Message from Falk Firebeard of the Blue Palace. Got friends in high places, eh?"

"Something like that." Aramen and Mikael's eyes were both wide.

"Looks like that's it, gotta go."

"Wait!" Mikael grabbed his shoulder. The messenger turned back towards him. "Could you please deliver a message for us? Soon as we write it?" Mikael's mind was running a mile a second. "Won't take but a few minutes."

With a shrug, the man sat down a little ways away as Mikael and Aramen looked over the letter. It was exactly as they suspected, Falk Firebeard requesting their presence and mentioning the ritual to summon Potema.

"We're in the middle of something here, but we can't exactly let this wait," Aramen commented quietly, drumming his fingers nervously on his thighs. "Why the fuck did this have to be now?"

Mikael agreed. They hadn't anticipated this quest coming up in the middle of something. But at the same time… "We can use this to our advantage."

"I-" Aramen started to speak, then froze. His eyes narrowed and a he nodded. "Yeah, I see what you mean. It's a decent idea; but shit, do you think it'll work?"

"We lose nothing by trying, and gain loads if it does."

"I got some spare parchment in here somewhere," Aramen quickly started searching his bag.

A couple minutes later, they walked up to the courier. "Alright mate, here's 100 septims and some food for the trip," Aramen thrust a small sack to the man, holding a letter. "This needs to get to its destination as soon as humanly possible, you understand?"

"That's what I do, sir. Who am I delivering this to?"

"Have you ever heard of…"

* * *

"Thanks mate, just drop us here."

They had asked their driver to leave them just by Fort Dunstad, and from there made their way to the path up the mountain that would lead to Dimhollow Crypt.

"*huff* Well, at least *huff huff* we're getting *huff* leg day *huff* done," Mikael tried joking, as they practically climbed the nearly vertical path up the mountain. Aramen just threw a snowball at him and they kept climbing.

Soon enough, they reached the top, and paused for a moment to heal themselves. Normally, healing spells do little for fatigue, but with some experimenting Aramen had figured out how to make roughly as refreshing as a cheaper-end stamina potion. A minute of magick channeling and they both were ready to go.

"C'mon, we can get in there and take care of business before that vigilant guy shows up and gets himself killed," Aramen said.

Without further ado, they stepped into the cave opening, seeing the daylight quickly fade as they continued through the opening passageway.

"...all this talk is making me thirsty. Perhaps another Vigilant will wander in soon," idly commented one of the vampires, making the Twins freeze in place from their hiding spot by the entrance.

Sure enough, they could see the corpse of Vigilant Tolan in the light of the torches by the gate on the other side of the room.

"We travelled by cart like non-stop, how the hell did he get here first?" Mikael asked in a harsh whisper.

"I don't fucking know!" Aramen responded just as quietly but no less emphatically.

"I wish Lokil would hurry it up. I have half a mind to return to the castle and tell Harkon-" the other vampire was abruptly due to a steel bolt tearing through her neck. The Death Hound immediately turned and growled, only to be met by two larger wolves with snow white fur, the three leaping at each other, snarling and biting.

The last vampire drew his sword and peered around, his eyes piercing the darkness and seeing a tall man in dark armor, just in time to see two daedric daggers come flying at him. He deflected both, watching them both bounce off his blade and then disappear a moment later in an orange puff. He could feel a burning from behind him, and saw another person charging at him with a blade that shined with daylight. He started draining the man in front of him, hoping to wear him out before he reached him, only to feel something very cold on his back, and felt the spike of ice pierce through his meager protection. Fancy looking though it may be, the Twins knew that realistically the vampire armor provided little in way of defense. Aramen simply powered through the man's weak block and carved through his body with Dawnbreaker. The Death Hound was torn down by Mikael's conjured wolves who, blood clinging to their fur, wandered back over the their caster, who pat them both on the head before dismissing them.

He had, with a bit of experimentation, been able to easily conjure items and creatures with some appearance of solidity, much like in Oblivion. A useful tool to trick enemies and good practice for illusions in general.

"Oh, no you don't," Mikael said with a growl, seeing the vampire's body start to turn to dust. He cast a reanimation spell at the vampire, raising him as a zombie. It floated up from the ground, then stood and stared at him, moaning softly. "You're going to make a nice meat shield, fucker."

They took a moment to stand over the body of the fallen Vigilant. "Gods damned prideful fool…" Aramen said with a sigh.

Mikael nodded assent, then conjured a skeleton. "Drop his body off at the Hall of the Vigilants," he ordered it. The skeleton clicked and creaked as it picked up the corpse and exited the cave. "Let's go, no reason to keep a lady waiting."

* * *

They hadn't been able to save Adalvald either. They shouted out as soon as they heard them talking, trying to distract them, but Lokil had simply slit the man's throat and turned to face them. They fought fairly well, but died all the same. Mikael made another skeleton to drop his body off as well.

"I'll take this one," Aramen said, walking up the button, bracing himself for what he knew would happen. Mikael prepared a healing spell. The ranger placed his left hand on the button, and a spike stabbed through it a moment later. "FUCK!" he shouted, Mikael immediately on him with some magic. "That hurt way more than I thought it would."

Of course, then the ethereal and freaky looking blue/purple slow motion flames erupted around them.

"What the hell is this stuff anyway?" Mikael asked, sweeping his hand through it. "It isn't an illusion, not exactly anyways." They both could feel the necromancy involved in whatever magic it was, it practically reeked of it. They studied the feel of the energy when they pushed each of the braziers into their proper places.

"All this fancy magic, held together by a puzzle that could be completed by trial and error without consequences," Aramen said with a shake of his head while the floor sunk down. "When we see that woman, we'll need to ask her what the hell is up with that."

Mikael simply chuckled and waved his hand at his brother, who went up and touched the stone monolith. The front slid open and inside was a lovely young woman wearing fancy clothing, a cloak, and an elder scroll on her back. She stumbled forward, her orange eyes blinking away the drowsiness she must be feeling. After a moment, she took notice of the two men in front of her.

"Uhh… where is… who sent you here?" she asked, one hand on her head.

Aramen was a nerd. He'd always been a nerd, as had his brother. He'd played hundreds of games, watched hundreds of shows, and listened to so many D&D podcasts. Aramen was pretty good with voices, so the familiar voice of Laura Bailey was causing just a little bit of cognitive dissonance. Because this was not a character; this was a person. Thankfully, the both of them having lived the past year or so in what had been a videogame and fighting undead horrors, he got over it pretty quickly.

"Name's Aramen," followed by a thumb pointing over his shoulder, "And this is my brother Mikael. Don't rightly know how long you've been sealed up in that casket of yours but nowadays it's considered polite to introduce yourself right away."

"Sorry, I was just expecting someone… like me," she said slowly. "My name is Serana."

"Ah, yeah, could see how that'd be a bit confusing. Expecting a vampire and getting two random schlubs instead," Mikael said with a nod. "If I may ask, what were you doing in a stone pillar?"

"That's…" she paused for a moment, eyeing the glowing hilt of Dawnbreaker over Aramen's shoulder with wariness, "complicated. And I'm not totally sure if I can trust you. But if you want to know the whole story, help me get back to my family's home."

"Well you seem to be in a hurry and Skyrim ain't exactly safe for a leisurely stroll at the moment." Aramen paused to scratch his beard in seeming contemplation, "I suppose we could walk you home, assuming it still exists considering that his whole place is and has been a ruin for probably a couple hundred years."

"My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do."

"Solitude, you say? We needed to head up that way, luckily. Let's go, we can talk while we walk," Mikael suggested, already heading towards the steps.

As soon as he approached, however, two gargoyles burst from their places as statues and leapt at them. One was immediately blasted into bits with a concentrated lightning bolt, while the other was cleaved in two with Dawnbreaker; the undead creation being resistant to physical weapons since it was made of stone, but still vulnerable to holy might. Serana had cleared her dagger from her sheathe and was ready to cast an icicle by the time it was over.

"Never forget rule number 2," the Twins intoned.

"What's rule number 2? Serana asked, confused.

The two grinned, and explained to her the basic rules of adventuring.

* * *

They cleared out the next two rooms full of Draugr with practiced precision, Aramen demonstrating his skill with both his crossbow and Dawnbreaker, while Mikael took apart the enemies with spells from afar and more conjured creatures. Serana was no slouch with her elven dagger, but it wasn't quite as effective against the creatures. They picked up the tome on Necromantic Healing and headed out, resigning themselves to a long walk to Solitude.

About an hour into their journey, Aramen fell back from the front to fall in line with Serana and after a moment, "If you don't mind my asking, Serana, do you have any idea how long you were sealed up?"

"Good question. Hard to say. I… I can't really tell," she admits with a sigh. "I feel like it was a long time. Who is Skyrim's High King?"

"Well, remember how I mentioned Skyrim was not currently the best place for casual travel? There's a bit of contention on that point. The Empire of Cyrodil supports the former king's wife Jarl Elisif, while many locals support the Stormcloaks lead by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. Naturally no one is willing to act like adults about this and talk it out so instead it has devolved into a bloody civil war with a side order of Thalmor coming in and kidnapping people from their homes and torturing the ever loving shit out of them." Aramen paused as if suddenly recalling some minor detail, "Oh, and also there's dragons. We killed a few." Aramen gestures to his clothing. "This suit is made with dragon scale, same as Mikael's." He pulled his modern combat knife from his boot. "We both have these, as well. Dragon bone," he offered it to her.

"Seems dangerous to wear the skin of dragons in the open like that. Are you trying to start a war with them?" the vampire asked, giving him an almost wary look.

"What, another one?" Aramen snorted. "Kind of, since Alduin's looking to kill everything because prophecy bullshit. Not much other options besides laying down and-"

"Wait, wait," Serana stopped him with a wave of her hand. "Another war? There already was a war with dragons? What happened?"

Aramen was baffled for a moment, then realized something. He knew that Durnehviir guarded Valerica, Serana's mother. And Durnehviir was alive before the Dragon War, as he talks about how he flew around with his kin while they fought amongst themselves. That means that Serana's family had to be based somewhere around the first era. His mind struggled to remember other wiki details, but couldn't remember if Serana's page ever included an exact timeline.

"Er, well," Aramen began awkwardly, "in the late first to early second century of the first era, there was this big black monster of a dragon named Alduin. Heralded as the World-Eater, Alduin wanted to rule rather than to start a war to kill everything. The humans rebelled but were getting their asses kicked so hard that Kynareth herself had to interfere and send one of Alduin's lieutenants to aid the humans, teaching them the way of the voice, allowing them to shout as the dragons do and harness the Thu'um. It culminated with three incredibly badass Nord warriors battling Alduin at the Throat of the World, defeating him through unknown means and ending the war. During and after the war, all dragons were systematically hunted down and killed because any of the ones who opposed Alduin were already dead and frankly the humans just wanted all of them gone by that point."

Serana felt an almost physical blow take the wind out of her at this new revelation. "So how are they alive now?"

"Alduin returned, somehow. And now he's very, very pissed at all of life and wants to embrace his role as World-Eater. He's going around to all the burial sites of dragons and wherever else he can find their corpses and bringing them back to life."

"Well, wonderful. A war of succession, world ending prophecies, and I'm awakened by dragon slayers. Glad to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone," she says, giving Aramen a look. She took the dagger, turning it in her hands. "But if Cyrodil's the seat of an empire, then I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than we planned." She took a moment to collect herself. "Please, let's hurry. I need to get home so I can figure out what's happened." She held the weapon out to the ranger.

"You can hold onto that if you want. Not to brag or anything, but, that knife is probably of higher quality than that elven butterknife you currently wield," he offered.

"Thanks, but I'll stick with this for now," she told him. Aramen shrugged and put the blade back in his boot. "So, who are the Thalmor?"

"Bunch of imperialistic, xenophobic, assholes who rule over the Aldmeri Dominion and want to destroy the empire, conquer Tamriel, and put every non high elf beneath their boot heels as lower class subjects/serfs, who got incredibly lucky during the Oblivion Crisis - we'll explain that one later - and managed to take over Summerset Isle through what amounted to just one big lie that is provably false and want to stomp out all worship of Talos because they are still pissed he beat the elves way back when."

"Buncha pricks, those Thalmor!" Mikael shouted from the front. "Avoid them if you can."

"I… see."

Aramen nodded and kept pace with her moving a few steps to the side to give some time to process this new information. But after a couple minutes he drifted back.

"You know there have been some positive changes in the past couple centuries you know, not all doom and gloom. Here," Aramen offered up one of their spare traveling cloaks, "You might appreciate some of the magics worked into this"

She looked at it for a moment in hesitation, then took off her own cloth cloak and put on the new one. Immediately she felt less of the biting cold wind and felt heat along her back. "Thank you," she said.

"Glad you like it! I'm thinking about mass producing them. Should sell for a tidy profit," Mikael called.

Soon after, night fell. Mikael dug in his pack for a map, conjuring a small magelight to read "We're northwest of Morthal. Where's your home?" he asked Serana.

"Right… here. That's where it should be," she said, pointing.

"We should make camp for tonight. We'll be able to reach there by noon or so if we leave around dawn."

"More sunshine? Can I convince you to keep going while it's still night?" Serana asked.

Mikael gave it some thought. They'd want to be well rested for meeting big bad daddy, but Serana was probably feeling a little impatient, and she had been hoofing it in the sunlight this whole time, which probably wasn't pleasant for her. They'd caught some rest on the carriage, so they weren't too tired, but still… if they kept going for a few more hours and camped closer to the island, they weren't sure if Serana wouldn't just decide to say "I'm fine from here" and go on her own the rest of the way.

"Alright, how about… we take a short rest," Aramen snorted at the phrasing. Mikael rolled his eyes. "4 hour nap, then we'll get going again. We'll arrive before dawn at that rate."

"Thank you," she told him.

Aramen set down his pack and searched for a sleeping bag. "Serana, since you've been sleeping for who knows how long, you mind taking the watch?"

"'Taking the watch'?" Serana repeated with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You kn-" he stopped himself. Serana wasn't an adventurer. She'd gone from living with her family and studying with her mother to being imprisoned with no time in between. Of course she wouldn't know what "taking watch" means. She was like Lydia; ignorant in the ways of adventuring and spelunking, but ready and raring to learn. The shorter Breton shared a glance with his taller kin. They both grinned. Another student to teach. "Right, so basically it's like this. It's dangerous to be sleeping out in the wilderness, between bandits and the wildlife and gods know what else wandering about looking for vulnerable targets. So when people need to sleep, they take turns having someone stay awake to look out for danger and keep everyone else safe. Since we'll only be sleeping for four hours and you're not tired, you'd be the only one taking a shift."

"You'd let a vampire watch over you while you sleep?" Serana asked with skepticism.

"We trust you."

"Not very smart, trusting a stranger."

The ranger shrugged, then turned and walked to start a small campfire while his brother took out some food and started cooking it. The blunt statement given without hesitation had thrown her off-balance, so she just watched as the two quietly talked and joked a short ways away until Aramen came back, holding a plate.

"Little something Mikael made up. It's not human blood, but should still be good. We'd

offer meat but we already ate up our dried stuff." Aramen held out the food towards her, a small grin adorning his face. "Mashed potatoes with melted cheese, and some apple slices."

Serana took the plate. Mikael had his plate set down on the ground. He kneeled on one knee, putting both hands to the earth, and three short stools of stone rose up from the ground. He sat down with a huff. "Well c'mon, take a load off," he said. Aramen went over and sat, wooden spoon digging into the meal with gusto.

"How did you do that?" Serana asked, nudging the stone with her boot.

"It's a fourth-level transmutation spell, learnable by wizards, druids, clerics, and more," Mikael said with a grin. "We invented it, call it Stone Shape. With a bit of concentration and application of magicka, you can move earth and rock to your will. Costly and slow, though, if you're doing more than a small amount like this."

"You two must be pretty good with magic," the vampire commented, finally seating herself and biting into her own food. She quite enjoyed it.

"We get by," Aramen said humbly. "Be happy to teach you something sometime."

They finished the rest of their meal in comfortable silence, cleaning up quickly. The two bid Serana goodnight and huddled into their enchanted sleeping bags. Serana watched them for a moment, surprised that they fell asleep so quickly, then leaned back and turned her gaze to the stars.

* * *

True to their word, it was still dark by the time the group passed by west of Solitude, by Wolfskull cave. Truth be told, the Twins didn't travel much at night, and they felt regret as they'd trekked through the chilly countryside of Skyrim with the wonderful calming sounds of ambient nature beneath the moons and the beautiful celestial bodies above them and the dragon circling overhead and diving down- wait,

"SHIT!" two voices yelled out, diving out of the way of a gout of flame that poured on the spot they'd just been standing on, lighting up the night in a sudden fiery fashion. They could see it was a pale dragon. Serana had been trailing a little behind them and swiftly backed up from the burning mess. The dragon swooped by overhead, taking a wide lap to come back around.

"By the gods!" Serana shouted, drawing her dagger.

Both Twins immediately shed their packs. Aramen pulled out his crossbow and hastily loaded it while looking at the vampire. "Right! So, uh, our usual strategy when-" Aramen sprinted a short distance to avoid more fire while Mikael shot lightning bolts up at the beast. "-when fighting dragons is just avoid the breath attacks and-" he took a shot with his crossbow, hearing a satisfying roar of pain come from the dragon near above. "-just keep pelting it at range until it lands, then we-"

"Pin it down and kick its ass!" Mikael yelled from a short ways away, watching the readying himself as the dragon landed a short ways away. He yanked off his robes, leaving him in his under armor, not wanting to be encumbered when he needed to move fast. Conjuration flowed from his fingers, sprouting two skeleton warriors to harass their enemy while he circled around.

Serana nodded and started hurling chunks of ice at the dragon, chipping away at its armor. Aramen ran straight ahead to the face of the beast to draw its attention with the skeletons. Mikael had come around the back of the dragon and was focusing on another conjuration. From his hands came a jagged spike with a hook at the top, looking like a demonic stake for a demented tent. He thrust it down into the tail of the dragon with as much force as he could muster, impaling the creature to the ground. When the dragon bellowed in pain, it left itself open for a moment while Aramen sliced at its face and chest. Mikael had already retreated by the time the dragon swung its wings back at him, trying to claw the pest that harmed it. With another roar, it took to the air, bellowing when the tip of its tail was shredded and split from pulling away from the stake.

"Dragons use their tails to help them fly, it should be easier to kill now," Mikael informed their vampire companion, already shooting more lightning.

And indeed it was true; the dragon's flight was far more wobbly than it had been before and had to stop to hover when it wanted to breathe flames onto them, which the Twins hastily made a combined ward to block. The dragon landed far more shakily the next time about a hundred feet away, shooting flames in excess to keep them at bay, casting long shadows of their bodies.

"DIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiibbss!" Mikael screamed as he sprinted towards it, ward in front of him.

"Awww damn it. Alright, fine!" Aramen called, advancing more slowly and concentrating on rapidly firing and reloading his crossbow.

Serana felt very confused. Wasn't Aramen typically the melee fighter? Why wouldn't he want to be attacking closely? Regardless, she continued with her icy assault.

Mikael, meanwhile, had zig-zagged his way towards the dragon, letting Aramen harass it from afar. It was looking very haggard by now, and so when he broke through the wall of fire that the dragon was spewing out, he slid underneath it, dragging a conjured sword along its weakened belly, gutting it open and showering him with blood. The creature gave a defeated warble and flopped to the ground with Mikael standing behind it.

Aramen stopped himself about twenty feet away from the corpse while Mikael stood over it with an expectant grin on his face. "That was… very impressive," Serana said, more than a little shocked to see a legendary dragon of old dead at her feet, by her hands and the hands of two strange Breton.

"Not really," Aramen retorted with a wave of his hand. "I get the feeling this one was pretty young and inexperienced. The ones we fought at Whiterun were way harder to kill, even the one at Winterhold blew harder breath than this."

And the simple fact was that so far, individual dragons were not that complicated to kill. Their main advantages were overwhelming strength, flight, and breath attacks. The strength could be battled by the fact that they were slightly slower due to their cumbersome size; difficult but manageable with time and practice. The flight was only an issue until it decided to land, which never made much sense to the Twins. Alduin was clearly the most badass dragon in all the land and barely touched the ground at all when he fights. Why move yourself into range of the enemy's weapons? If they were smarter they'd just stick back and spam breath or stick to fly-by snatch and grabs. They were still susceptible to ranged attacks, but arrows firing straight up lost a lot of their power and were often missing because they were too slow, and magic could only do so much until the caster ran out of juice or was hit by a fly-by. And the breath attacks could be stopped by sufficiently strong wards, landscape, or just not being where they were breathing.

Most people of Tamriel, however, were only melee fighters. It was bred into most warriors that the solution of battle was just to hit something with something else until it died. Not an incorrect method of thinking, per se, but not the smartest against a creature far stronger than yourself unless you were fast as hell. Granted, even if you did know all this, implementing it against a real dragon was a whole other deal. Aramen boasted enough nicks and cuts to show he'd just barely held his own distracting the dragon with help from the skeletons.

"Well, I might-" Mikael paused for a moment when the skin and muscle started dissipating into motes of light in front of him, power rushing through his veins as the soul of the beast was absorbed into him. A few seconds later and all that remained was a skeleton and some random objects the dragon had apparently eaten off some other poor shmuck. "...yeah, I can sorta tell that this one wasn't exactly a sergeant in Alduin's army. Just another random one that he dug up," Mikael informed them after rolling his shoulders and flexing his limbs out. "Still, a good soul nonetheless."

"Wait, how did you…" Serana stared at the corpse, then back to Mikael, then to Aramen, then back to the corpse. "What are you?" she asked in a slightly cautious tone.

Aramen merely raised an eyebrow. "We're Dragonborn? Didn't we tell you that already?"

"No, you didn't," Serana said back evenly. "What is a Dragonborn?"

"Yeah we did, it was right when we… we'd just… we were talking about the civil war and… huh, guess we forgot" Mikael said slowly. "Sorry, yeah, we're Dragonborn. Both of us. Check it, FUS!" Mikael turned and shouted behind him, snow billowing into the air. He turned back, grinning. "Basically we have inherent understanding of dragon shouts and can learn them near instantly. And when we kill dragons, we can absorb their souls to gain power and more knowledge of Thu'um."

Aramen gave a similar grin to Serana, coming over and clapping his twin on the back. "Reason he called dibs is because I got the last dragon soul, so he wanted this one. It was fair." He glanced back to the corpse, where Mikael had already turned to and was handling. "Anyways, sorry, we're gonna take a pause here to loot this thing. Take as much of the bones and scales as we can fit in our packs. This shit is damn near the best crafting materials in the known world. You're welcome to some of it since you helped."

"Which we appreciate, by the way!" Mikael shouted from his crouched position in the ribcage. "See what we got… damn, less scales than we usually get, but different color so there's that…"

"Bones are in pretty good shape since it didn't crash land…" Aramen said, joining his brother. "What else… some gold here… Daedric Shield- wait, Daedric Shield? What the fuck did this thing eat?"

Serana merely shook her head and filed away the information to deal with later. She took a small amount of the bones and scales, since she didn't have a pack to carry more with.

After the looting was done, it was another hour trip where nothing exciting happened save seeing a short encounter between some Imperial soldiers with Thalmor against some random bandits. Morons should've known better trying to rob people this close to Solitude. Still, they approached the Icewater Jetty and sailed across the sea for about fifteen minutes until they reached the dock on the other side.

"Agh, my arms are sore," Mikael quietly bitched, having done most of the rowing. He turned his attention to the looming structure. "This is your home?" Mikael asked, admiring the architecture.

Serana smiled ever so slightly. "This is it. Home sweet… castle."

"It's impressive." And it really was. The gargoyles gave it class and the whole thing sitting atop cragged rocks gave it a foreboding and intimidating feel, to say nothing of the actual style and interior.

"It's something, alright." She collected herself for a moment, then addressed both of them. "Hey, so… before we go in there…"

"Are you all right?" Aramen asked with concern.

"I think so. And thanks for asking." Her gratitude was apparent in her tone. "I wanted to thank you for getting me this far. But after we get in there, I'm going to go my own way for a while. I think…" she said with some trepidation.

"Hey, it's cool," Aramen said immediately. "It's a wide world out there and you've been out of it for a spell. Should take some time to walk it, see what's all new. But," he put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't be a stranger. We'd be happy to have you for company some time. We live in Winterhold most of the time, just tell the guards you're looking for us."

This time, Serana smiled. A small one, but it seemed real enough. "I know your friends would probably want to kill everything in here. I'm hoping you can show some more control than that," she finished with a smirk.

"I think we'll manage," Mikael quipped immediately. "But, Aramen…"

"Yeah."

The ranger immediately unstrapped Dawnbreaker from his back and tucked it into his pack, covering it with whatever he had in there. Walking into a den of vampires with a blade gifted by a daedra specifically designed to kill and hurt undead seemed like a good way to become dinner.

"Once we're inside, just keep quiet for a bit. Let me take the lead," she spoke with certainty. A sexual innuendo popped to Mikael's mind, but couldn't find the words for it. He sighed at the missed opportunity.

They walked up the bridge

"Lady Serana's back! Open the gate!" cried the watchman, who swiftly pushed open the door to the interior and bowed. The trio entered, all three on edge.

The first thing to hit them was the stench. The odor of an entire heap of corpses permeated the air, the coppery taste of blood hung like invisible fog on their noses and tongues. Judging by the way Serana failed to react, it was a familiar smell.

Immediately, a Dark Elf vampire was in their face. "How dare you trespass here-" he threateningly approached them until he caught sight of their female companion's face. His demeanour immediately changed. "Wait… Serana? Is that truly you? I cannot believe my eyes!" The vampire named Vingalmo then turned and quickly went to the balcony to address the gathered hall. "My lord! Everyone! Serana has returned!"

"I guess I'm expected," Serana said with nonchalance, but to their ears it sounded just a bit forced. She was slightly surprised, clearly, but wary now as well.

They wandered down the steps, ignoring the hushed whispers and quiet statements of awe that rose up from the gathered inhabitants. Mikael and Aramen took stock of the rest of the room. The stone walls and arches seemed well constructed, if a bit dull. The carpet was torn and worn, a look shared by the dark red banners that lacked any emblem or sigil on them. The floors seemed grimey and dirty, come to think of it most of the surfaces in the hall did. Blood stains were abundant on floors and walls as well. Then there were the dining table themselves. The wood looked old and musty, a once no doubt fine brown color long since stained a dark maroon with dried blood, accompanied by fresh stains even now. The casks on each table were much the same. Then there were the plates stacked with chunks of crimson flesh and multicolored skin on the exterior. Topped off with a plain ol' dead body on each table as well, still clothed for some reason. More than that, the candles in the room seemed to burn the same height and color of every other candle the two had seen, but failed to provide the same illumination. Darkness seemed to accumulate in dark corners and under surfaces more than it should. It reminded them of Kilkreath Temple, only much less so.

This place… is just wrong.

There was one man in front of all the others, a Nord vampire. He was donned in the finest clothing of the court, complete with cape and leather pauldrons. A strange emblem adorned his chestpiece. He wore his hair combed back and sleek. His beard was immaculately kept, emphasizing his shallow cheeks and sharp jawline. His skin, like the others, was pale, contrasting the yellow-orange glow of his eyes. It was clear that he had a dominating presence and could easily intimidate or scare those he did not like.

Well, most anyone.

Walking up to the clearly biggest bastard in the place, Harkon greeted them with a self-important grand tone of voice. "My long-lost daughter returns at last. I trust you have my Elder Scroll?"

* * *

 **DRAMATIC CLIFFHANGER!**

 **Thank you, dear readers, for your continued interest in the story. And a thank you to frankieu for padding out my review count by 12.**

 **Was looking over the traffic stats, a surprisingly large number of you readers coming from the U.K., the Netherlands, Australia and such. So hello from the United States! You don't wanna move here.**

 **EDIT: 5/16/2019  
Yeah, did a bit of looking up on the wiki and realized Serana was definitely around when the dragons were, so had to change around some dialogue to make it make sense.**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

 **Donbason: WAAZZAAAAAAAA.**

Aramen hated this kind of awkward social situation. Familial drama was avoided at all costs. A passive aggressive daughter meeting her asshole father after running away a while ago when she brings a boy home is probably one of the worst he could imagine. And throw in the fact that almost everyone involved is a multi-millenia old vampire, well… let's just say he would be more comfortable if they had immediately drawn weapons and lunged at them with their fangs, he at least knew how to handle that.

Serana's shoulders tensed slightly, then slumped. "After all these years, that's the first thing you ask me? Yes, I have the scroll."

Harkon's face twisted into a semblance of a smile. "Of course I'm delighted to see you, my daughter. Must I really say the words aloud?" he asked amidst quiet exclamations of "She has the scroll!" "The scroll!". Serana took the scroll off her back and handed it to the older man, whose eyes roamed over its form greedily. "Ah, if only your traitor mother were here, I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike. Now tell me, who are these strangers you have brought into our hall?"

"These are my saviors, the ones who freed me," she turned and gestured to the two Bretons, stepping to the side as she did.

The glowing orange eyes of the elder vampire turned to the masked and helmed faces of the ranger and mage. "For my daughter's safe return, you have my gratitude. Tell me, what are your names?"

"I would think it's customary to introduce oneself first," Mikael offered, crossing his arms. He regarded the vampire from under his helmet warily.

"I am Harkon, lord of this court. By now, my daughter will have told you what we are."

Aramen shrugged. "You're vampires, old ones no doubt. Smart enough and stealthy enough to go unnoticed for all this time by the general eye. Other than that, I don't really care."

Okay, so he may have been buttering them up a bit. Better to have them with an over-inflated ego and make a simple mistake than have them on guard and cautious.

Harkon gestured grandly to the room. "Perhaps you should. I count some of the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim among the members of my court. For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world." His eyes narrowed slightly. "All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most."

"Well, this is all very fascinating but what I think we should be off, eh?" Mikael said as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "Interesting meeting you all. Ta ta."

"Leaving so soon? You have done me a great service, and now you must be rewarded." Harkon said with a smile. To him it may have been charming, but to the Twins it just looked condescending and cruel. "There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter. I offer you my blood. Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again."

"A tempting offer, I'm sure," Aramen said drily. "And if we should choose not to accept?"

Harkon's smile fell. "Then you will be prey, like all mortals. I will spare your life this once, but you will be banished from this hall." He threw back his cape. "Perhaps you still need convincing? Behold the power!"

Harkon bent over slightly as veins of blood seemed to rush over his form, expanding until they covered him entirely, then turned from a dark red into black. He grew in size in a mere second, until the form was taller than Mikael. The blackness receded, turning back into the blood veins that shrank and disappeared as he threw his arms and wings out, flexing, and letting loose a growl.

"This is the power that I offer! Now, make your choice!" he demanded, staring down at the Twins. Strangely, his voice did not change in the new body, which felt like a missed opportunity on Bethesda's part. Some comedic Transylvanian accent or a darker and more menacing tone of voice would've added a lot to the transformation.

Mikael and Aramen didn't need to look at each other. "We refuse," Aramen told him.

Harkon snarled. "So be it! You are prey, like all mortals. I banish you!" He gathered a spell in his right hand and cast it at the Twins. In a moment, they blacked out.

When they came to, they were on the beach by their boat, standing up. They shook their heads to clear their vision and the dizziness they felt.

"Ugh… so I guess the question is, did he teleport us or did he just knock us out or something?" Mikael pontificated.

"I can't tell. Damn, would be useful to know," Aramen bopped him brother on the shoulder. "Come on, it's nearly light out and we've got a crypt to hit."

"Your turn to row this time, you only did like two minutes of it last time," Mikael said accusingly, though smirking.

* * *

It was about afternoon by the time they made it back through the gates of the Blue Palace. Waiting by the door on the inside was a Redguard, a familiar one as well.

"Isran, you made good time," Mikael praised by way of greeting.

"The first thing you do when I send you out on a mission is mail me back a letter with requests?" Isran glared at them. "This had better be good."

When the Twins got the letter from Falk Firebeard, they knew it was Potema making her moves again. They knew they were enough to handle it, or at least hoped, but they smelled a lot of opportunity right then. They sent the courier onwards to Fort Dawnguard, luckily the weather had cleared for both him and Isran to go far faster than the Twins had made it. In their letter, they had told Isran briefly about what happened in Wolfskull Cave and that they suspected Potema was on the rise again. As she was very fond of the undead, they knew Isran's expertise could prove invaluable. More to the point, by making a public appearance and assisting in a situation this dire, the Dawnguard would get their name out as important and have a potential ally in Solitude at least. Support and recruitment would swell and hopefully bolster their ranks as well as cement the Dawnguard's reputation. While they knew Isran wasn't likely any more a fan of politicking than them, it was an important opportunity he couldn't be let by easily.

Aramen shook his head. "Saying 'good' implies nothing's wrong. And something is very wrong. Come on, let's go talk to the steward." They proceeded up the steps and in short order found him.

"The courier must have found you," the Nord man said without preamble.

"We were on our way here already. Falk Firebeard, this is Isran, leader of the Dawnguard. Isran, this is Falk Firebeard, steward of Jarl Elisif."

Falk's brow furrowed in thought. "The Dawnguard? I heard they were vampire hunters. What brings you here?"

"I hear you have an undead problem," Isran said with a piercing look. "One that will kill us faster than the damn vampires if we don't kill it first. These two are fresh recruits, and they told me what was happening. I'll help, but we'll be talking afterwards."

"What's the situation?" Mikael cut in.

"Well, old friend, I'm afraid it's not good news. When you broke the binding, Potema escaped. We've encountered some of her minions. Styrr says she's still in spirit form or we'd all be dead already." He paused a moment to collect himself. "You've already done us a service in stopping the binding, but I need you to go talk to him, to see if Styrr can tell us what to do next."

"Why us specifically?" Mikael asked obligatorily. He knew already, but he new they didn't know he knew.

"I'm not really sure. Styrr thinks you have some kind of link to Potema. I trust his judgement on this. As a priest of Arkay he's had to deal with necromancy before. Nothing as dangerous as Potema, though."

"We'll head over right away."

"Be careful, friends."

In a short while, they stood inside the Hall of the Dead.  
"You must be the ones Falk spoke so highly of. Welcome," Styrr greeted.  
"We're here to talk about Potema, old man. We don't have time to waste on pleasantries," Isran fingered his warhammer in a subtly nervous manner.

"Err, yes," Styrr looked a bit put-upon. "She has been summoned in spirit form, not raised from the dead. She'll need help before she can return to the living. For the moment, the Wolf Queen has retreated to a place filled with dead eager to serve her. She has gone to her old catacombs. A few days ago, one of her servants busted through a wall into the Temple of the Divines. We'll need you to go into the catacombs themselves."

"Nothing like fighting a necromantic spirit in a place filled with corpses," Mikael commented drily.

"Being at the summoning created a connection to Potema. You are the ones to do this. I can provide you with some help against her minions," the old priest drew a _Turn Undead_ spell tome from his robes and a key. "As for Potema herself; find what's left of her body, likely a skeleton. Remove it from the catacombs and bring it back to be sanctified by Arkay."

"We'd best get going," Aramen said. "Thank you for your help."

They made it to the Temple and stopped to pray at Arkay's altar, feeling their vitality boost a bit in response. Isran took a deep breath. "Could set up a small temple in the fort…" he mused quietly to himself.

After that, it was straight down the stairs into the catacombs. The first room was nothing interesting, except of course for…

" _ **You've arrived at last. The heroes that prevented me from being bound returns to my fold."**_ A familiar woman's voice echoed around them.

Mikael grimaced and Aramen drew Dawnbreaker. "Always the chatty one," Aramen commented.

"What?" Isran looked around, drawing his warhammer as well. "Is that Potema?"

"Yeeeeeep," Mikael drawled.

" _ **I have much to thank you for, little ones. When you die I will raise you and you can take your place by my side."**_

"Tempting offer, but I've got too much living to do before I'm dead!" Mikael called.

" _ **You'll serve me soon enough."**_ With that promise, the bars to the catacombs lowered. How the hell she did that and why the catacombs were designed like that the Twins had no idea. They simply pressed on, muttering "fuckin' Bethesda" under their breath.

The first Draugr they encountered fell quickly under the combined power of the trio, leading them into the next room where Aramen immediately decapitated the archer around the corner, while Isran's eyes immediately locked on to the vampire down the stairs.

"Filthy vampire!" he shouted, leaping down the stairs and slamming his hammer right into the skull of the creature. Mikael's ice spikes lanced the final Draugr through the chest.

"Looks like this was the right move after all," Isran told the two Bretons.

"We wouldn't waste your time," Mikael assured him. "Not unless it was this important."

"Good. Now let's get to work."

* * *

So along they went, clearing the rooms and re-killing everything inside. Isran got the chance to see a Draugr Wight up close, an experience which he did not want to repeat any time soon. The scattered traps were easy enough to avoid, and the mural of Potema was very interesting to study for a moment. The Aura Whisper shout proved to be very useful to scan for enemies at every opportunity. The spinning room door… things were marvels of ancient engineering for people who weren't Dwemer, but the pointlessness made it hard to appreciate. The soul gem traps were taken care of via a single thrown rock each to knock them off their spots.

"You've come far, mortal," a Nordic vampire praised as he emerged from behind a stone pillar. "No doubt you-"

A lightning bolt and two crossbow bolts shut up the chatty bugger quickly. The Draugr on the throne, slow as they are, barely managed to rise from his chair before Aramen drove Dawnbreaker through its chest with an explosion of light.  
"Stupid dramatic cunt," Mikael asserted as he gathered dust from the vampire. Isran didn't know what a "cunt" was, but he got the gist and gave a small chuckle as he motioned to the door, reloading his crossbow.

* * *

Stepping into a room filled with corpses, they once again heard the voice of Potema. " _ **Not much further. Come, little things. Serve me in death."**_

They ignored her and made to leave through the door that opened when Mikael paused and knelt over one of the corpses.

"No time to mourn the dead," Isran told him.

"I'm not mourning, this is a dead vampire. More importantly, this one was from Castle Volkihar. That's where the main group of vampires are attacking from. The rest just looked like random wandering vampires."

Isran's face turned to a scowl. "I'll be expecting the full story when we return to Fort Dawnguard. Still, what this could mean…"

"Yeah, I don't much like the implications either," Aramen thought aloud.

They hadn't paid much attention to the corpse in their playthroughs of the game, but looking at it now, it implied bad things. The possibility that the vampires either knew Potema was on the rise and wanted to summon her themselves, or were attacking her minions to try and weaken her, or something else entirely. It wasn't enough information, but none of it was good by having this body here.

"A problem to worry about some other time," Mikael said forcefully, leaving the room and tossing a fireball over his shoulder. The gathered corpses burst into flames as they moved forward.

The chamber before them was large and grandiose. Coffins lined the walls, each threatening more undead to burst forth and strike. In the center was a large pulsating blue energy streaming with power, from which the voice of Potema spoke directly.  
" **You've come far, mortals, but can you stand against my inner council? Let's see!"**

A lightning beam lanced out from the center of the energy, blocked by wards from the Twins and awakening the many Draugr within their resting places. Skeleton archers sprung forth and started firing, backing the Draugr warriors that trundled towards them. Mikael shouted a " _FUS!"_ to stagger them, allowing Aramen to dash in and start chopping with Dawnbreaker. Isran followed closely behind with his warhammer smashing through bones, while Mikael simply conjured two wolves and conjured oakflesh for his skin, preparing for the next wave. The first few fell quickly.

" **Don't applaud yourself too soon, worm!"**

A couple more skeletons emerged, including a glowing orange one that Mikael knew was dubbed "Skeleton Puppet". He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but in the game he knew it was stronger than normal skeletons, which it proved by killing the first wolf that charged it and ignoring the second. Mikael tried to turn undead on it, but the effect didn't take hold and so he was sliced across the arm as he backpedaled, cutting through his oakflesh. It swung again, this time deflected by Mikael's bracers and leaving the creature off balance. He responded by tackling the boney bastard and wrestling it to the ground, trying to rip one of its arms off while the wolf bit its skull. A surge of lightning across his back painfully reminded him that Potema was still attacking him, so he heaved and tore off the arm of the skeleton before curb stomping it into the ground. Isran and Aramen faced little difficulty with the weak skeletons they fought.

" **Rip the eyes from their heads!"**

"Ah, fuck me," Aramen swore, seeing the Draugr Lord pop out, holding a claymore.

" _FUS RO DAH!"_ it shouted at them, sending Isran and Aramen both sprawling and painfully knocked their heads into the stone, further compounded by the lightning that struck them while they were down.

"Shit!" Mikael cried and leapt forward, conjuring another wolf quickly and a larger ward to block his companions while they recovered. An arrow struck his arm from behind, and he spotted an archer lord nocking another arrow. It bounced off his ebony helmet as he split his ward in two and mentally commanded his wolves to prioritize the sword wielding one. They snarled and attacked, only attempting to harass and dodge the slow swings from the creature. Each arrow and pass of the lightning served to drain him quickly, though. "You two can nap some other time, I'm getting pinned here!"

"Urgh," Aramen grunted as he pushed himself off the ground, one hand healing himself and the other Isran, who also struggled to his feet. "Whine whine whine." He picked up Dawnbreaker. "I'll go kill that archer if you're going to be a pansy about it."

Isran snorted and ran over to the warrior, scoring a good hit across the back while it was distracted. Unfortunately, it wasn't distracted for long as it managed to cleave through the summoned wolves and turn his attention to the Redguard. Isran blocked the blow with the haft of his hammer, but it still left him staggering. The undead shouted again, this time lighting Isran on fire, making him shout in pain and dodge backwards to avoid a heavy blow. He dropped his hammer for a moment to heal himself and cast stoneflesh, grey covering his body quickly. He threw a _Sun Fire_ at the draugr before grabbing his hammer and charging again.

Aramen nimbly dodged an arrow and swung Dawnbreaker at the archer, surprised when it only cut a couple inches in. The Draugr took an arrow and stabbed it into the chest of the ranger, which failed to pierce his scale armor. The ranger grinned and heaved his sword through the rest of the archer's body, splitting it in two.

Mikael cast some ice under the remaining Lord's feet, so when Isran knocked it back with his warhammer, it stumbled and fell. Isran roared, swinging the hammer down with the force and finality of a blunt guillotine that smashed the head of the creature.

When the last Draugr fell, the blue energy in the room went haywire and swung around before rushing through the back door.

"Fucking hell that was tough." Mikael tore the arrow that had hit the back side of his upper arm where he had forgotten to armor it.

Aramen rubbed his head, feeling the knot and blood there. "Yeah. I think I'm going to need some more healing for a while, I probably have a concussion."

"That's what you get for not wearing a helmet, genius," Mikael chided, knocking on his own and pointing at where the arrow bounced off.

"You're right, what the hell was I thinking? We'll get that sorted soon as we're done here."

"You two handle yourselves well," Isran cut in. He looked at the two with new appreciation. "Were you planning on telling me you're Dragonborn?" he stared at Mikael.

"Uhh we both are?" He said. "Didn't you hear us using the Aura Whisper?"

"I thought that was a spell," Isran said with narrowed eyes. "Huh. Dragonborn. That should be useful. Nice work."

"Job's not done yet," Mikael reminded him. "Let's get those remains."

* * *

Despite her ghostly attempt at protecting her skull, the ectoplasmic entity fell quickly under an assault of sun magic, holy sword, and lightning. They took the skull and swung by the secluded chamber to kill the last two Draugrs and loot the chest on the cliffside, yielding a few ingots of differing materials and a Daedric chestplate. Despite being loaded down with loot in their packs, the three made their way back up through the catacombs. Soon, they arrived in the Hall of the Dead once more.

"You've returned! I'm hoping successfully," Styrr called when he saw them come in. The Twins just handed him the skull. "Excellent. These things do have a way of working out when people take action. I'll sanctify the remains." He gave the three of them a smile. "In case Falk doesn't make it clear - Solitude owes you a debt of gratitude."

"Farewell, Styrr," Mikael gave a short bow and the trio left for the Blue Palace.

* * *

The bloodstained group of adventurers garnered some odd looks from the denizens of the Blue Palace, especially since they had been there a few hours ago. Jarl Elisif, Sybille, and Falk took the most notice, though.

"We've taken care of Potema," Mikael said quietly.

Falk;s relief was clear by how his shoulders relaxed and he nearly slumped. "You've done a great thing, today. It doesn't matter who you support in the war; Potema would have been a blight on the land for both sides." He smiled. "Without you this would have been a disaster. I should have paid more heed to Varnius' warnings. I won't make that mistake again." He handed them a large sack of gold and the Heavy Shield of Solitude. "Take this payment. The Jarl would thank you but she very much wants to keep Potema's return quiet. Make no mistake we consider you a protector of Solitude."

"You're welcome, Falk," Aramen told him. "But you should speak with Isran here. It's very important."

"Certainly. You helped to defeat Potema as well, Isran of the Dawnguard. I would be glad to listen."

"We'll be by the forge when you're done," Aramen told Isran.

"Let's leave them to it," Mikael nudged his Twin and walked over to Jarl Elisif while the two men left the main room.

"Hello again," she greeted.

"We placed the horn at the shrine and took care of the wolf," Mikael informed her.

"Falk said I could count on you," she replied with a smile. "With this and stopping Potema, you have more than earned the right to purchase property and take the next step to becoming a Thane. Speak to Falk when you have the funds. And thank you."

"It was our pleasure, Jarl Elisif." With a parting wave, the Twins left the Blue Palace.

When they arrived at the forge, Aramen crossed his arms and stared at it for a moment. "You know, I said I needed a helmet but damned if I can think of a good design to go with this ranger look."

"Elven, maybe?" the taller Twin offered. "Daedric, but you'd have to dye it somehow to go with your green."

"Actually, fuck it. I'll take some time later to make a good one. Let's just repair our stuff for now. If Isran isn't here when we're finished, we can get some magic practice in. Maybe crack the code on that damned inventory."

* * *

OMAKE: The concert begins!

 _What a perfect opportunity for an assassin,_ Irileth thought warily as she watched the crowd grow larger.

It was evening time, and the stream of people had not stopped for over an hour. Citizens from all over Skyrim; shopkeeps, warriors, guards, farmers, and more were here. She doubted Dragonsreach had ever been this full, it was massive, so much so that people were spilling out into the grove around Dragonsreach. She had been told by the Twins that if people stood outside, they would still be able to hear the music, if not see the show. Small tables were dotted around the the hall near the entrance, and a few larger ones had been pushed back upstairs so that they would be facing the Jarl's throne. Or, where the Jarl's throne used to be. In front of it now was a wooden stage with strangely shaped objects covered by sheets all over it. The stage was tall enough to be seen from downstairs.

Among the guests on the upper landing area included Mirabelle and Tolfdir from the College of Winterhold with a few of their students, Birna of Winterhold, several members of the Companions, Bryling and Falk Firebeard of Solitude, Lydia, Viarmo from the Bards College, Farengar poking his head in from his room, as well as various people dressed in finery she didn't recognize.

Jarl Balgruuf was mixed in the crowd, socializing and being friendly with the people. It worried her every time she saw someone get a little too close to him when they were passing by or approaching him to talk, hoping that she would be quick enough to run in from her spot standing by the sidelines with the other guards. Thankfully for her nerves, he finished his conversation and moved to the stairs. She followed after.

"Ah, Jarl Balgruuf!" Viarmo called boisterously as the Nord arrived up the steps, approaching him. "I would like to thank you for this marvelous opportunity you have presented for all of Skyrim. It means so much to me to know that music would bring so many people together like this."

"I merely allowed my Thanes use of my home, it is they who you should thank," Balgruuf responded. "I met some of your students downstairs. Are they to be part of the performance?"

"No, sadly they are not yet skilled enough to play songs of this difficulty. I hope, however, that they learn from watching these two."

"Are my Thanes students of yours?"

"No, we're actually business partners," Viarmo explained with a smile. "They walked into my College with a wide set of instruments I'd never even heard of before and sold me their designs and instructions. I can't wait to see what they show us today, perhaps even more new instruments! Though, I was just speaking with Tolfdir here, and your Thanes are students of his," he said with a gesture to the elderly man, who stepped forward.

"A pleasure to meet you, Jarl Balgruuf," Tolfdir greeted warmly, eyes crinkling with the many wrinkles he had accumulated. "I am Tolfdir, one of the teachers at the College of Winterhold. This is Mirabelle Ervine, Master Wizard." The Breton woman, standing a ways away, heard her name and nodded in their direction before returning to her conversation. "Aramen and Mikael have told me about Whiterun and yourself. It has been many years since I traveled here, and I am happy to see the city doing well."

"I've heard of you," Jarl Balgruuf informed his elder with a smile. "My Thanes told me much about your College, and specifically of you. They tell me you taught them a great deal and are a good, honest man."

Tolfdir chuckled a bit at that. "They are too modest, honestly I sometimes wonder if they aren't teaching us. Some of the ideas they have… it impresses even Arch-Mage Aren. They're great students."

"Did you, by chance, teach Mikael how to enchant? The work on my sword is something I've never seen," she asked him, drawing her sword a halfway out of its sheath to raise the pommel to the man.

"No no, that would be Sergius, but…" Tolfdir trailed off as he examined the gem. "Hmm yes, I see… very interesting… I've never seen a ward turned into an enchantment, almost like a scroll fixed into a gem… and to make it block in every direction…" He straightened with a proud smile. "Yes, quite something."

Suddenly, the lights in the room began to dim. A buzz of surprise rose from the crowd below. Irileth gripped her sword, eyes scanning the room. An obscuring fog suddenly blanketed the stage, through which shapes could be seen moving. Whistling was heard coming from the stage, amplified to all to hear it. A violin began, and the sounds of metal striking metal were heard. The fog began to lift from the stage. The whistling gave way to a large group of people humming.  
" _We all Lift Together - Warframe"_

" **Ladies and gentlemen, Thank you all for coming to tonight's show. We invite you all to relax, enjoy some refreshments, and bask in the sound of music from our land,"** the voice of Mikael rang out.

The stage was now visible, and on it was a most interesting sight. Many unused instruments and objects lay scattered about, but more interesting than that were the performers. Mikael and Aramen were front and center, and around them were ghostly looking apparitions that bore their resemblance, but were transparent and blue, as well as female looking forms. Many were holding hammers in front of anvils and other metal surfaces, striking them in time. Some sat behind the others, holding stringed instruments, others with wind and brass. They were all humming. Aramen held a violin in his hands. Mikael's hands were glowing with magic, which he planned to use to make the sounds of more technological instruments they lacked.

" _Cold: the air and water flowing._

 _Hard: the land we call our home._

 _Push to keep the dark from coming,_

 _Feel the weight of what we owe._

 _This: the song of sons and daughters,_

 _Hide the heart of who we are._

 _Making peace to build our future,_

 _Strong, united, working 'till we fall._

 _Cold: the air and water flowing._

 _Hard: the land we call our home._

 _Push to keep the dark from coming,_

 _Feel the weight of what we owe._

 _This: the song of sons and daughters,_

 _Hide the heart of who we are._

 _Making peace to build our future,_

 _Strong, united, working 'till we fall._

 _And we all lift, and we're all adrift together, together._

 _Through the cold mist, 'till we're lifeless together, together."_

The loud singing cut down to humming and metal once more, ending with a soft gong strike and metal hit.

Cheers and applause filled the hall, faces filled with wonder and awe, excitement and joy. The Twins gave a short bow.

" **Thank you, thank you all. For those of you who do not know us personally, my name is Mikael Viator, and this is my twin brother Aramen Viator."** More applause. " **I'm very happy to see such an amazing turnout for this event, and hope you all come away from this performance enriched by our culture."** The apparitions placed down their various instruments and objects before fading, causing much murmuring from the crowd before another group of ghostly figures appeared. " **Now, on with the show!"**

* * *

 **Thank you, thank you very much.**

 **Been a long time coming with this one, couldn't decide on which song to use as the opening number for the concert. My brother showed me this one and said it would be a good choice, so here we are.  
Thanks again for sticking around with the story thus far, I know it isn't exactly quick on the updates. I take solace in the fact that some of the stories I follow are bloody months or even years between updates and reconcile with our release schedule.**

 **Please review, I like to know your thoughts and opinions on the story, as well as speculations and questions. Interaction pushes me onward with this story.**

 **-Waki Paki**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Birna wiped the sweat from her brow, tired but satisfied. James followed suit, a smile on his face. They both sat down in chairs and looked around at what they had built.

After months of collecting salt with the pots and basins, Birna had asked the Twins for an improvement on the concept. They had given her some designs for a building to place down by the beach and some odd machines to fill it with, which they had spent a good amount of time on between the other city improvements. The building itself was fairly large, larger than the inn. Inside was a small counter area in the front by the door. Behind that was a door that led to the rest of it, which was a large room. There were rows of empty casks with pipes leading to them, all waiting for their payloads. In the back was the main feature, a large tube looking tank that Aramen called a "Disc tube module filtration system" that she would now be using to filter. It sat at a higher level than the casks. When she asked how exactly it was supposed to work, she had been given an explanation about something called "mem-brains" and "activated coal" that she lost track of, but upon seeing her confused expression, Aramen told her that it basically was gravel and charcoal and cloths that took any water and took out the non-potable parts and left clean water. They'd isolated the layer where salt would be left behind, which allowed her to remove and collect it more easily than before and also would send the now clean water up to each of the casks. She could sell them later and share with the town.

Of course, the two of them hadn't made it on their own. About a dozen people had moved in over the last couple months and a few of them were builders. After Birna hired them and made them sign a contract, she explained the project and they all took to it with gusto. While they still had to hand-carry buckets of water up steps to the filter, it was still more efficient. Now they could enjoy a well-deserved rest.

The door opened, and in walked her brother. "Everything looks good outside. Told the men to take the rest of the day off, but they'll be back tomorrow in case something comes up," he explained, taking a drink of mead from the bottle on the table.

Another gift from the two Thanes; they helped her brother come to terms with Isabelle's death. He thought that his beloved had run off with a thief, but when Mikael walked into the inn one day and solemnly handed him a letter, Ranmir had read it and barely restrained his tears before quietly leaving to think. Mikael told her that Isabelle had been sad at how they'd been just struggling to make it by day by day, so she contacted a friend in the Thieves Guild for a job that would get them enough money to be set. She died in Hob's Fall cave, which the Twins had explored on one of their many trips.

Birna would admit to herself that she resented the woman for breaking her brother's heart, but hearing the full story had left her feeling guilty and saddened. She only wished Isabelle had made it back safely, then perhaps she and Ranmir could have moved away somewhere to be happy.

Apparently, Aramen had spent some time with Ranmir after he got the letter. Birna didn't know what they talked about, and her brother wouldn't say, but Ranmir had cut down on his drinking greatly and was actually making himself useful in the town. He was still a bit broody sometimes, and still enjoyed a drink, but now he seemed to be moving forward. Birna was glad that their money wasn't being pissed away on ale. More than that, she was even happier to have her brother back.

* * *

Sitting in the back of a carriage were four people; the Twins, Gunmar the Nord hunter, and Sorine Jurard, the Breton archeologist.

After Isran was finished talking with Falk, he had met up with the Twins and they explained to situation regarding Serana and the vampires having an elder scroll. The man sent them to recruit his old comrades like usual and headed off to the fort immediately.

They'd swooped down and west to pick up Sorine and invited her to come along on a carriage ride to retrieve Gunmar, which took much longer than expected due to a series of storms and generally awful weather in the southern Skyrim region they were plodding along that meant their coach was making somewhere between half and three-quarters speed per day. Luckily, the weather cleared up some after they picked up the bearded Nord. The two of these former vampire hunters were making idle chatter and catching up while ignoring the Twins, who tuned them out, each focused on magicka problems.

When you get right down to it, both illusion and destruction schools of magic are basically subsets of conjuration. And conjuration and alteration were basically subsets of alchemy, but on a metaphysical level instead of material level.  
Aramen contemplated this thought as he shot various liquids from his hands out the back of the carriage he and his comrades were sharing. He had grown frustrated with their lack of progress in their extradimensional inventory spell, so Aramen was now trying to recreate a few other D&D spells, in this case being _Grease_.

While using ice on the floor to deprive a few draugr of balance was effective, undead weren't the most agile of creatures. In a country where most of the denizens both sapient and not were used to the treacherous footing of not only rocky earth but also the slippery ice, it would behoove him to research a more refined method of robbing an enemy of their stable ground. Plus, lighting them on fire for added effect.

Mikael, meanwhile, had too gotten very annoyed at the constant stream of failures in the inventory spell and had taken to questioning something that had been bothering his mind about the magic system difference between games.

The restoration school of magic did not boast only spells of healing and undead-turning. In Skyrim, it had few other applications. But in Oblivion, there were also buff spells for every skill and attribute a character could have which were missing from Skyrim. Potions could also achieve this effect. Alchemy made sense, what with the many tools and magic refinement that went into the magical ingredients, it's reasonable one could temporarily boost someone's fortitude or dexterity or even willpower, but how did it make sense a liquid could somehow imbue knowledge of a given skillcraft? How could blisterwort carry information on specific smithing techniques? Or hanging moss improve one-handed fighting? At least you could convince yourself that magic potions made from magic ingredients could improve a given magic skill tree, but how does a bit of shrubbery improve your archery or heavy armor? Without diving more into that particular branch of magic crafting, the Twins couldn't be sure.  
What they COULD be sure of was that you couldn't cause a mental effect you didn't know how to make, it just didn't make any degree of sense from a human standpoint. Scrolls were like pre-loaded spells enchanted onto a piece of paper that were consumed upon use, and thus the wielder's body was more a conduit for its release than a student of its knowledge. But take, for instance, a spell that boosted intelligence. Say character X has an intelligence of 68, but he casts a spell that improves intelligence by 20 on himself. Where did this intelligence come from? The caster would have to have a basis of understanding regarding what intellectual level they want to achieve before they could cast a spell to get that effect. It didn't make sense that a person could give themself sudden knowledge of something they _didn't know_ with no outside input.  
"With no outside input" would be the key phrase in that statement.  
It was well understood how each of the nine divines had their own domain of skills and attributes that they governed, granting blessings to those that prayed to them, as it is also known that the original eight Aedra basically sacrificed themselves to birth Nirnen. In doing so, it could be reasonably suggested that they left bits of themselves all over the universe. Just as they exerted intentional influence on the world with blessings, they left unintentional influence everywhere. It could also be reasonably argued that restoration magic comes the closest to divine magic since healing was right up there in terms of creating life and thus closest to the realms of gods, with conjuration squeaking out a close second place (which leads to the question why it's so commonly associated with daedra rather than Aedra, but that was a problem for another time).

So, if a person could not create something they did not know, it followed that something else would have to pick up the slack. So character X gathers his magicka and casts an intelligence buff on himself, and in doing so pulls on the divine energy that permeates existence brought about by the Aedra, with Julianos working for this example. Whatever particular flavor of boost they're looking for is answered by the resident god's power and channels through the caster, tuned in on the right magical frequency for the spell. It follows that theoretically, if a person had enough magicka, they could possibly cast a spell so powerful that it temporarily elevates them to the level of a god in whatever that given buff is, but that amount would have to be so ridiculously high that they would practically have to be a god already to cast it. Not to mention daedra would be hunting down that spellcaster long before they got so close to the sun to take their powerful soul for their own or enthrall them to their service.

Mikael stilled entirely in his seat, drawing a look from the other three passengers.

"Magical frequency… daedra… Oblivion…" he mumbled to himself, digging out another septim from his pocket. He called up his magicka, trying to "feel" the destination he was looking for. It vanished into purple from his left hand. A moment later, he recalled it to his right, showing no signs of any damage or wear. He sent it back again from his right, waited a full minute, then back to his left, still unharmed

"I got it," he whispered to himself, before leaping to his feet. "I FUCKING GOT IT! I DID IT! I'M THE GREATEST WIZARD ALIVE!"

"By the Eight, man, sit down! You're rocking the carriage," Gunmar said.

Aramen, however, was far more aware of what his Twin was excited about. "You did? No bullshit?"

"Mankar Camoran took the hard fucking route, I tell you that!" Mikael shouted, laughing as he did so. "It's so obvious!"

"Who?" Sorine asked, confused.

"In the Oblivion Crisis, the leader of the Mythic Dawn cult was this prick named Mankar Camoran, who built a new plane of Oblivion he called 'Paradise' using a powerful daedric artifact known as the Mysterium Xarxes," Mikael explained while pulling out random belongings from his pack. "All that work to make a shitty plane of existence that wound up being hell, like building a house when you could have just moved into one!" The tall Breton started making objects disappear from his hands; a dagger, some jerky, a spare shirt, and a cup. "The problem we've been encountering is that we've been trying store items on an alternate plane of existence, but we've just been accessing tiny portions of existing realms of Oblivion! It's no wonder all those septims were destroyed, few places in Oblivion are favorable to life! We've just been in on the wrong wavelength for the spell, that's all!" He pulled out the previous items from another mist of purple to show them in fine condition. "I've found the right frequency of summoning magicka to place them in what must be an uninhabited realm of Oblivion, a blank slate of sorts that doesn't have any daedric prince's presence. An empty house. I'm conceivably the only person who knows where the keys to this house are, so everything is secure! A personal pocket dimension!"

Mikael immediately grabbed his brother's hand and channeled the spell, letting him feel the right twist of spatial manipulation to be keyed on the right plane. Aramen took out a septim and made it disappear, bringing it back a moment later. His face grew to match the maniacal grin of his kin, eyes practically glowing with fervor. "Now, everything shall be taken! The tables, the cups, the weapons, even the fucking floorboards! AHAHAHHAHAHAAAAAA!"

"And we don't have to lug these fucking dragon parts anymore!" Mikael kicked his pack, which was heavily laden with bones and scales from the dragon they'd killed earlier since they hadn't had an opportunity to offload them back at Winterhold. And now, he didn't have to!

Both stopped and looked to their companions. "We'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anybody, it's kind of a very serious project we've been working on and don't want anyone else to pick it up quite yet," Mikael told them.

The carriage driver didn't react, but then he never paid attention to what his passengers did and talked about to begin with unless they addressed him first.

Sorine and Gunmar didn't follow most of what he'd just spouted off, but the words "Oblivion" and "daedric prince" caught their ears fairly easily. Still, the two looked fairly excited and serious, and were part of the Dawnguard sent by Isran, so they could let them be, if only to not worry about daedra on top of vampires for the moment.

"Of course, won't tell anyone." "Just don't cast your magic at me," a female and male responded respectively.

* * *

As the quartet idly approached Fort Dawnguard, he wondered if it would be worth spending time beefing up the defenses when he knew the battle would be on offense instead of defense. He discarded the notion swiftly. It would be better to simply teach stone shaping to the Dawnguard's mage and leave some designs for improved battlements, they simply didn't have time to help a project that involved with all the other shit on their plate.

The four of them stepped through the massive doors into the fort, seeing the iron gates on the doorways already up.

"All right Isran, you've got us all here. Now what do you want?" Gunmar called up to the Redguard.

"Hold it right there," Isran commanded, throwing open the sunroof.

Sorine squinted and looked up. "What are you doing?"

"Making sure you're not vampires. Can't be too careful." He eyed the four of them, then nodded and closed to roof. "So, welcome to Fort Dawnguard." He went into his spiel explaining things to his comrades, Aramen commenting to Sorine that he wanted to speak with her about crossbow designs sometime.

"In the meantime, we're going to get to the bottom of why a vampire showed up here looking for you," Isran gave a glare to the Twins. "Let's go have a little chat with it, shall we?"

Mikael spotted some people off the left hallway, what looked like Solitude guards. "New recruits?" he asked, his voice carrying as he climbed up the stairs.

"Solitude offered a few men to spare for fighting the vampires. They won't be sticking around when we're done," Isran's voice replied. "Helped us fight off an earlier attack. Maybe they'll take this more seriously now that they've seen what we're up against."

They made their way up the stairs and found Serana in what looked like the torture room, which she stood in with a bored look that focused on Isran as he sauntered in, followed by the Twins, who smiled upon seeing her.

"This vampire showed up while you were away. I'm guessing it's the one you found in Dimhollow Crypt. Says it's got something really important to say to you." He turned to Serana and say, "So let's hear it."

She rolled her eyes at the gruff man before addressing them. "You probably weren't expecting to see me again," she began.

"Not so soon," Aramen lied, "but it _is_ good to see you. What brings you to the lair of the vampire killers?"

"I'd rather not be here, but I needed to talk to you. It's important, so please just listen before your friend, here, loses his patience." She took a breath. "It's… well, it's about me. And the Elder Scroll that was buried with me."

"Please, go on," Aramen prompted, leaning forward.

"The reason I was down there... and why I had the Elder Scroll. It all comes back to my father. I'm guessing you figured this part out already, but my father's not exactly a good person. Even by vampire standards. He wasn't always like that, though. There was... a turn. He stumbled onto this obscure prophecy and just kind of lost himself in it."

"Fucking prophecy," Aramen sighed in exasperation. "Nothing good ever comes from dealing with prophecies."

"They're always depressing, vague, and ambiguous, and getting all obsessed over them always winds up with somebody going completely crazy and falling further and further into madness" Mikael agreed.

Serana nodded. "He just became absorbed... obsessed. It was kind of sick, actually. The prophecy said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. For someone who fancied himself as vampire royalty, that's pretty seductive. Anyway, my mother and I didn't feel like inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. That's why I was sealed away with the Scroll."

"Thank you for coming and telling us, Serana. You took a big risk coming here," Aramen acknowledged, giving a glance to Isran.

"I did," she commented, lips turning to a small smile. "But something about you makes me think I can trust you. I hope I'm not wrong."

"I'd like to just tell you that you can definitely trust us, but it doesn't work like that." Mikael sighed. "I hope you will in time."

"And now we just have to convince the others you're on our side," Aramen mused.

"Well, let's move on then. I'm nothing if not persuasive."

They turned to look at the unimpressed Redguard. "All right, you've heard what it has to say. Now tell me, is there any reason I shouldn't kill this bloodsucking fiend right now?"

"Because we're going to need _her_ help to deal with her mad father," Aramen replied immediately.

"Why, because of that story about the prophecy? About some vampire trying to put the sun out? Do you actually believe any of that?"

"Well to start, yes I believe her. Regarding the prophecy, it doesn't matter if we believe that or not," Mikael shrugged. "Harkon, that's his name by the way, clearly believes in it and will act under that assumption, so we'll need to stop him by following his logic and heading him off where we can."

Aramen nodded alongside his Twin. "You don't trust her, fine. Trust us. We believe her."

Isran gave them both a long look. "You'd better know what you're doing. It can stay for now, but if it so much as lays a finger on anyone here, I'll hold you responsible. Got it?" He turned to Serana with a face just short of hostile. "You hear me? Don't feel like a guest, because you're not. You're a resource. You're an asset. In the meantime, don't make me regret my sudden outburst of tolerance and generosity, because if you do, your friend here is going to pay for it." Mikael and Aramen quietly snorted. Isran was a badass no doubt, but between the two of them they could probably take out half the Dawnguard without permanent injury.

"Thank you for your kindness. I'll remember it the next time I'm feeling hungry," the vampire replied with a dry, sarcastic tone, which made the two other smile.

"So in case you didn't notice the giant thing on my back, I have the Elder Scroll with me. Whatever it says, it will have something that can help us stop my father. But of course, neither of us can read it."

"Suppose we'll need to find a Moth Priest, then," Mikael said, rubbing his face.

"I'm surprised you know of them," Serana admitted.

"But they're all the way in Cyrodil, which means that unless our names were the Wright Brothers we won't be getting there any time soon."

"The who?" Serana asked, perplexed.

"Some Imperial scholar arrived in Skyrim a few days ago," Isran interrupted. "I was staking out the road when I saw him pass by. Maybe that's your Moth Priest."

"Do you know where he's staying now?"

"No, and I'm not going to waste men looking. We're fighting a war against your kind, and I intend to win it. You want to find him, try talking to anyone who'd meet a traveler. Innkeepers and carriage drivers in the big cities maybe. But you're on your own," Isran dismissed them with an irritated scowl and left.

"Do you have any ideas?" Mikael prompted.

"Well, back before I... you know. The College of Winterhold was the first place I'd think to go for any kind of magic or historical thing. The wizards know about all kinds of things that people shouldn't know about." Serana paused and seemed to collect herself. "Actually, now that I think of it... I'm going to come along with you. I've been really wanting to get out and explore a bit."

The two smiled widely. "We'd be very glad to have you along, Serana," Aramen responded. He jerked a thumb to his taller brother. "Sure makes the journey more tolerable if I'm not just stuck with this lumbering prick."

"Oi!" Mikael recoiled in offense. "You wound me, you scoundrel! Betrayal!" Serana smirked at their antics. "Anyways, you know much about Elder Scrolls?"

"I mean... as much as anyone. Not a lot. You'd figure a couple hundred years locked away with one would have given me some insights, but no. Turns out you don't learn much from just sleeping with something."

Mikael bit back the retort on his tongue, knowing Serana would be unamused. He caught Aramen hiding his own smirk and chuckled.

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Aramen waved it off. "As it so happens, we know a bit about Elder Scrolls ourselves." The two held back laughs at the double meaning. "More to the point, you're almost certainly right that he'd swing by the College to talk to the resident librarian. We can head that way and go from there. And," he said with a grin, "We can show you our little home!"

* * *

Aramen knew full well how the dialogue would play out for most scripted conversations in the game, but he also knew that _having_ the conversation was as important as knowing what was said. So as they sat down for a long carriage ride and Mikael sat closer to the driver and continued writing, Aramen decided to broach the next conversation with Serana. "So, were you always a vampire?"

The woman looked at him sideways and sighed. "That's... a long story."

"We've a long ways to go, I'd like to hear it," he insisted.

"I guess... we kind of have to go way back. To the very beginning. Do you know where vampirism came from?"

"Molag Bal, the daedric prince of rape, corruption, slavery, and of course vampires; the only good thing that came out of that bastard," Aramen said with distaste.

"I thought the Dawnguard all hate vampires," Serana responded with some surprise, more so at his knowledge of the daedric prince.

"They sure do," Aramed assured her. "But I don't, and neither does Mikael. Vampires share about equal propensity for killing innocents as any other person, be it bandits and forsworn or shopkeeps and housewives. Just because they just prefer to work at night and drink blood doesn't change that. Long as you mind your own business and don't attack random people, who cares if your eyes glow? It's like hating all orcs because they're just naturally better fighters than most and prefer combat."

All told, having heightened reflexes and physical ability along with cool glowy eyes and scary magic powers on top of being bloody immortal was a mostly fair trade off for just being hungry and uncomfortable in the light. But it wasn't something that either of them would be pursuing intentionally; partly because vampires are heavily ostracized and would make anything dealing with people in the future much harder, and partly because they just didn't want to have the hamper of their weaknesses.

Serana blinked at that, then continued. "Molag Bal is a powerful daedric lord, and his will is made reality. For those willing to subjugate themselves, he will still bestow the gift, but they must be powerful in their own right before earning his trust."

"How did you actually become a vampire, then?

"The ceremony was... degrading. Let's not revisit that. But we all took part in it. Not really wholesome family activity, but I guess it's something you do when you give yourselves to a daedric lord."

He noticed her tone. "Do you regret becoming a vampire?"

"Nobody's ever asked me that before. I... I don't know. I think... mostly I hate what it's done to my family."

"Such as?"

"Well, you've met most of us. My father's not exactly the most stable, and eventually he drove my mother crazy with him. And it all ended with me being locked underground for who knows how long." She looked down, staring at the wooden floor of the cart. "It's definitely been a bad thing, on the whole."

"Are you alright? Please let me know if I'm being too inquisitive."

"Don't... Just leave me alone for a bit," she asked and scooched a little close to the end of the cart, staring out at the passing wilderness.

Aramen nodded and let her be.

Mikael, meanwhile, was nearly finished with his copy of _Romeo and Juliet_. It was fortunate Shakespeare's time settings and writing structure translated well to the universe of Elder Scrolls, which meant he didn't have to piss about with trying to adapt anything and could just jot down whatever was there. Of course, he still needed to find a publisher, and lord knows how the hell he was supposed to do that.

Sadly, going by the pen name "The Bard" probably wouldn't fly so well in a land where there's a literal Bard's College so he decided to simply pay homage to the man he was unashamedly ripping off and just go by his actual name. Hell, maybe someone else would one day get sucked into this world from theirs and be confused as shite that those books somehow made it here.

He was also trying to figure out what to write next. _Romeo and Juliet_ was a fine story, holding relevance as it always done in times of war. But what next? _Macbeth_ was a favorite of his, but _Julius Caesar_ or _Hamlet_ were calling his name. Same with _Much Ado About Nothing_ , which conveniently sounded much like a title that belonged in this universe.

Mikael rubbed his face. He wasn't even sure if he'd have time soon, between the Dawnguard picking up and whatever else was probably waiting to ambush them as soon as that was done.

* * *

It was a strange couple weeks for her, Serana contemplated in her silence.

It wasn't long ago that her mother was explaining to her the plan to keep them away from her father, a man they both once loved, now twisted and blinded by prophecy and fate. Serana wasn't even given a choice, her mother just told her what had to be done and she was expected to follow. Neither of them shed tears, but it was a hard parting, Serana's last view of her mother standing with a sad but determined look that disappeared behind the stone of the altar, before she felt very tired and let sleep overtake her.

And then she awoke to find two very dangerous looking humans; a tall man in dark and red armor, and a shorter man in green. They didn't draw weapons or run away in fear, so she figured they must at least not be enemies. They didn't seem surprised to see her, but they weren't vampires, so her mother couldn't have sent them. They were willing to help her get back home, though, so she allowed them to lead her out of the cave.

And then they had gotten to talking, and she quickly found out she was far out of her depth in both time and understanding. Not to mention the two admitted to being part of a group of vampire hunters when asked, but shrugged off their concern about her attacking them. She would've felt insulted if they had at least seemed to dislike her, but they didn't. In fact, they had been nothing but polite and friendly, always answering whatever questions she had and willing to joke around. While Mikael's tall stature was a little daunting, he seemed to act the fool more, he was also very sharp minded and contemplative when he wanted to. Aramen was more level and dry, being more straight forward. He also used more of the dry sarcastic wit that Serana often used herself, which she quite enjoyed.

Despite the differences, it was easy to tell the two were very close. They shared a sense of humor, were very like-minded on politics and vampires and no doubt many other things, spoke without hesitation between them, were open and honest, had a clear understanding of one another, moved skillfully in combat, and seemed utterly relaxed around each other. They hadn't once made her feel like she was imposing on them or a burden, but rather a welcome addition to their travels.

When she returned home, she was glad to have them there as well. Seeing her home fall as low as it had from one look at the banquet hall had assured her that her father was far from the man she once loved. They had talked back to her father and showed no weakness when surrounded by what could be enemies if her father gave the order. She was surprised when he offered them his blood, and couldn't help a small hope that they would accept, that maybe they could stay and help her. They refused, though, and without hesitation. She wasn't sure if it was because they hated vampires that much or just didn't trust her father. Either way, he cast a spell and knocked them out, then ordered one of the servants to carry them back out to the boat.

The rest of the night, the castle welcomed her back and plied her with "food" and "drink" and conversation. She was surprised at the subtle implications by some of the court that they didn't quite trust her father anymore, and it made her wonder if they had learned over time what she did all those years ago; that he was mad, and desperately pursuing prophecy. Not that they were much better. Whatever "humanity" the residents of Castle Volkihar had when she left was long gone, stripped away by centuries of hunting humans and being tucked away in a small corner of the world.

When she retired to her room that morning, she felt very conflicted. Her room hadn't been touched, except someone must have been cleaning it to make sure it wasn't dusty or filled with vermin. For maybe four thousand years, someone had to come in and clean it in the hope she would return one day. The thought made her stomach clench with mixed feelings. It was still her home. But she couldn't feel at ease knowing her father slept in it, plotting to use her now that she had returned. She couldn't let him go through with his plan, had to find out what happened to her mother and stop her father. So she snuck into her father's room while he slept, stole the Elder Scroll back, and left through a side exit of the castle, catching the first carriage she could find to Riften, where the Twins had told her Fort Dawnguard was close to.

She had expected to be attacked the moment she approached the walls, but instead was only threatened with crossbows and shouted at for ten minutes. She pointed out that a single vampire wouldn't stand a chance going against a whole army of vampire hunters, and that she had important information to give to the Dawnguard, specifically to two of their hunters.

When the Twins returned, they were happy to see her, and that in turn made her happy to know they didn't hate her for her family or home. They listened when she spoke and trusted her word, accepting her without a moment's hesitation. It felt nice to be appreciated and included in something again.

While Aramen's questions had pained some old wounds, it was relieving to get some of that off her mind, to talk about what happened to her and her family. He was concerned for her and respectfully backed off when she asked. She wasn't mad, but needed some time to think.

Time that came to an end as the frigid snow and winds of the north brought them to a city.

Serana was surprised to see the walls outside of Winterhold, casting long shadows in the fading sunlight of the late evening. "Well, things have changed since I was here last," she mentioned to her Breton companions.

"Which must have been… wow, you were around before the Collapse," Mikael surmised with some wonder.

"The Collapse?" Serana was beginning to feel that she would always be asking questions around these two. Regardless, the city did look different. There hadn't been walls last time. That impression grew as they traveled into the city, departing from the carriage and walking in, the gates swinging open at their entrance. She ignored the looks the guards gave her, gripping their weapons tightly.

It was a look she was used to.

"Yeah, in 4e 122 or about eighty years ago," Mikael explained, "there were a series of absolutely horrific storms that pelted the coastline here nonstop. It completely decimated the town and collapsed most of the city into the sea. Most idiots blamed the College since it remained unharmed due to loads of magic protection the rest of the city lacked, but then nobody ever accused the masses of brilliance."

Serana took a deep breath. "I… visited here once before. It was a few years ago. Or," she winced, "I guess a few years before I was entombed. This place was filled with dark elves and scholars, merchants. It was so lively." It was another bold reminder she wasn't where she belonged any more.

"I wish we could have seen it," Aramen said wistfully.

"Most of what you see here is very new, less than a year old." Mikael gestured to the stone houses and tall lamps. "We've been making a lot of improvements since we booted out the old Jarl who was a piece of shit and held back progress. We're students of the College and with their help, we made a lot of improvements to the city. Hell, those walls were made with a lot of _Stone Shape_ casting."

"Winterhold's been in a rut for a long time now. We've been doing our best to help build it back up and have it grow. The College is an unparalleled center of learning in Skyrim; the city surrounding it should flourish as much as the minds that dwell inside." The ranger's gaze drifted over the entire street.

"What are these lights?" she asked in the silence that followed, noting how they seemed to warm her more the closer she got, and it was hard to miss the puddles and melted snow along the main road.

Mikael grinned. "An idea presented by Birna, since the college has little stone lamp things leading to it, we should do something similar in town to keep it light without fiddling with torches that could go out from snow falling. The trick was enchanting them so they provided more light and also heating. Sure makes it easier for the guards who patrol, even with the new uniforms."

Another thing that she had noticed. She'd seen the guards by Riften and a few other cities she passed on her way to Fort Dawnguard. These ones looked thicker on the furs, with longer sleeves and less metal.

"All their helmets have temperature control, another enchantment trick I picked up and taught to the College," Mikael stated proudly. "They offered to do the mass enchanting work for the guards since, y'know, you want the guys watching your back at night to be focused instead of distracted by how cold their metal helmet is."

As they walked, many citizens would wave hello or nod in greeting to the two Bretons, greeting them warmly. Most ignored her completely, but she kept her hood down all the same. Didn't need more people worrying about a vampire walking around.

A Nord came jogging up to the Twins, emerging from the inn. "Thanes! It's great to see you both again."

Aramen smiled and clapped the man on the arm. "Good to see you as well, Dagur. How's business been?"

Dagur chuckled. "We've had more and more people coming by, and most all of them need a drink and a warm meal. I've been thinking about asking the College to expand it."

"Can't expect them to do it for free," Mikael cautioned. "Not when you're doing it to expand business."

"O' course not. Tolfdir'll charge fairly for it, though. He just got back as well, actually."

"Did he leave?" Aramen asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, him and a few others," the man shrugged. "He came back yesterday. Oh! I'm s'posed to be on my way to a council meeting. Can you two come?"

Aramen nodded. "Yeah, we've been away for a bit. Should see what's up."

Serana followed them into the Jarl's Longhouse, into a side room. Inside were many people, one of whom was clearly the Jarl based on his clothing and position on the end of the table. He looked up when they entered.

"Ah Dagur, glad you made it, we-" the man paused, then smiled widely. "Ah, Aramen! Mikael! I'm happy to see you safely return."

Similar statements echoed around the room.

"As are we, Jarl Kraldar," Mikel returned with that bow of his. "And we're happy to see the city doing well. But before we go on, it would be rude of me not to introduce a friend we made along the way."

"Of course, please go ahead," the Nord man gestured.

Aramen turned and smiled at her. "Serana, this is the Council of Winterhold. With the few businesses and important people in the town, it was decided that the best way to work together was to meet like this and discuss important matters. This is Birna, owner of Birna's Oddments; the trading shop."

Birna was an unimpressive and plain looking woman, but seemed fine and strong as most Nord women did, her hair done back into a ponytail.

"Next to her is Thonjolf, housecarl to Jarl Kraldar."

The man was even more plain, aged with wrinkles and a squinted expression, who nodded his bald head patiently at his name.

"On the other side of the table, we have Tolfdir, scholar of Alteration magic, instructor and liaison to the College of Winterhold."

Tolfdir looked like an old and wise grandfather of the Jarl, wrinkled as well, but she could feel the magic and power inside the man. She felt a pang of hunger before beating it down. Now wasn't the time for a snack. He smiled kindly, a look that well suited his face as he acknowledged Aramen.

"Dagur, of course. He owns the Frozen Hearth."

Taking a second look at the man, he looked younger than most of the other members at the table, with blond hair tied back out of his face.

"A new entry from last time we were here," Aramen began with a grin. "This is Lydia, our housecarl from Whiterun, and close friend."

"Honor to you, my Thanes," the woman greeted warmly, smiling.

Serana couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated by the woman, quelling another grumble of hunger. It was clear she had been companion to her current companions, since she was donned in full dragonbone armor, looking ready to go to war at any moment. She was fair in both skin and beauty, but clearly carried herself as a warrior. The housecarl's eyes studied her for a moment, eyes going wide. Serana realized she must have seen her eyes under the hood. The woman tensed for a moment, but looked to Aramen and Mikael, to which Mikael merely nodded discreetly, causing the woman to relax, which in turn left Serana feeling relieved.

"And this is Jarl Kraldar, of Winterhold."

His clothes were finer than the others, but not complicated looking. His hair was done back, and his beard tied at the bottom. He stood tall and proudly.

Aramen turned to her, and she knew what he was asking. Serana hesitated for only a moment, then lowered her hood.

"This is Serana, a friend of ours we found locked away in a tomb. She's a little over four thousand years old." Her glowing eyes swept the room, watching faces turn to shock. "She's also a vampire."

* * *

OMAKE: The Concert continues!

As the applause and cheers died down, the figures came into form. Now on the stage were the Twins and four ghostly figures, standing side-by-side. Mikael whistled a little short tune. He looked to the others, smiled, then they all began snapping in unison.

 _Billy Joel - For the Longest Time (With Mikael as lead)_

" _Wooooah, oooooh, oh_

 _For the longest time_

 _Wooooah, oooooh, oh_

 _For the longest_

 _If you said goodbye to me tonight_

 _There would still be music left to write_

 _What else could I do_

 _I'm so inspired by you_

 _That hasn't happened for the longest time_

 _Once I thought my innocence was gone_

 _Now I know that happiness goes on_

 _That's where you found me_

 _When you put your arms around me_

 _I haven't been there for the longest time_

 _Wooooah, oooooh, oh_

 _For the longest time_

 _Wooooah, oooooh, oh_

 _For the longest_

 _I'm that voice you're hearing in the hall_

 _And the greatest miracle of all_

 _Is how I need you_

 _And how you needed me too_

 _That hasn't happened for the longest time_

 _Maybe this won't last very long_

 _But you feel so right_

 _And I could be wrong_

 _Maybe I've been hoping too hard_

 _But I've gone this far_

 _And it's more than I hoped for_

 _Who knows how much further we'll go on_

 _Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone_

 _I'll take my chances_

 _I forgot how nice romance is_

 _I haven't been there for the longest time_

 _I had second thoughts at the start_

 _I said to myself_

 _Hold on to your heart_

 _Now I know the woman that you are_

 _You're wonderful so far_

 _And it's more than I hoped for_

 _I don't care what consequence it brings_

 _I have been a fool for lesser things_

 _I want you so bad_

 _I think you ought to know that_

 _I intend to hold you for the longest time!_

 _Wooooah, oooooh, oh_

 _For the longest time_

 _Wooooah, oooooh, oh_

 _For the longest time_

 _Wooooah, oooooh, oh_

 _For the longest time!"_

They ended with an exaggerated snap and lean back, the apparitions fading. They waited for the applause to die down a bit before Mikael addressed them all.

" **Thank you, thank you very much,"** Mikael stated in an Elvis voice. Aramen snorted at the reference. " **Ladies and gentlemen, it's a real pleasure to be here and we are very glad to have this opportunity."**

" **Yes, as you've all probably seen, we have visitors from all across this wonderful country! From the far reaches of Riften and Solitude to the citizens of Whiterun itself, there's a lot of different folk here tonight,"** Aramen gestured grandly to the gathered crowd, earning some cheers.

" **You know, we've been in Skyrim for not very long compared to the rest of you, who I'm sure have spent nearly your whole lives here. It's a great opportunity being able to wander the lands and see the beauty of nature, as well as the marvels of architecture that have been on display."**

" **Now some of you may be asking where it is we came from? Perhaps a distant land across the sea?"** Aramen chuckled. Behind him, Mikael had stepped behind a curtain to change into some more topical clothing for the next performance. " **I will say we've seen some boats in our time. And this next piece… well, it's partly a shanty and partly a story of two sailors and how they know each other."**

Aramen swiftly removed his outer layer to reveal a ratty-looking sailor's uniform as Mikael stepped out and revealed a similar but distinct sailor outfit, a look of intense concentration on his face as the stage visibly shimmered with magic, changing and coloring as an illusion of the insides of some great beast took form and more ghost figures sat farther in the back with instruments. The sound of an accordian was the first heard, and Mikael and Aramen took seats on the front of the stage.

 _The Mariner's Revenge Song (With Aramen as lead, Mikael as the target) (AN: There's a great play performance of this on youtube, I'd recommend looking it up to get an idea what the visuals are talking about._

" _We are two mariners_

 _Our ship's sole survivors_

 _In this belly of a whale_

 _It's ribs are ceiling beams_

 _It's guts are carpeting_

 _I guess we have some time to kill"_

Aramen rounded on Mikael.

" _You may not remember me_

 _I was a child of three_

 _And you, a lad of eighteen_

 _But, I remember you_

 _And I will relate to you_

 _How our histories interweave."_

The scene changed with a ripple of magic, and Mikael sat at an illusory table with other figures, throwing cards around, drinking, and staring at a pit with two ghost dogs fighting.

" _At the time you were_

 _A rake and a roustabout_

 _Spending all your money_

 _On the whores and hounds_

 _(Oh, oh)"_

A woman's figure approached Mikael, who he pantomimed flirting with and smiling. She invited him into her home with a small child ghost lingering in it.

" _You had a charming air_

 _All cheap and debonair_

 _My widowed mother found so sweet_

 _And so she took you in_

 _Her sheets still warm with him_

 _Now filled with filth and foul disease"_

Mikael and the woman fighting, arguing, as the child watched on from a corner.

" _As time wore on you proved_

 _A debt-ridden drunken mess_

 _Leaving my mother_

 _A poor consumptive wretch_

 _(Oh, oh)"_

Mikael left, walking back stage. Officious looking figures approached the child and mother, holding a paper.

" _And then you disappeared_

 _Your gambling arrears_

 _The only thing you left behind_

 _And then the magistrate_

 _Reclaimed our small estate_

 _And my poor mother lost her mind"_

The woman laid down in a bed, clearly unwell. The child, now slightly older, at her side.

" _Then, one day in spring_

 _My dear sweet mother died_

 _But, before she did_

 _I took her hand as she died and cried:_

 _(Oh, oh)"_

Now, a breathy woman's voice sang out, the mother looking at the child.

" _Find him, bind him_

 _Tie him to a pole and break_

 _His fingers to splinters_

 _Drag him to a hole until he_

 _Wakes up naked_

 _Clawing at the ceiling_

 _Of his grave"_

Aramen took the place of the child now, as the scene shifted to a small town, a chapel off to one side where a priest's figure stood.

" _It took me fifteen years_

 _To swallow all my tears_

 _Among the urchins in the street_

 _Until a priory_

 _Took pity and hired me_

 _To keep their vestry nice and neat_

 _But, never once in the employ_

 _Of these holy men_

 _Did I ever, once turn my mind_

 _From the thought of revenge_

 _(Oh, oh)"_

A sailor figure rushed over to the priest and started gesturing.

" _One night I overheard_

 _The prior exchanging words_

 _With a penitent whaler from the sea_

 _The captain of his ship_

 _Who matched you toe to tip_

 _Was known for wanton cruelty."_

Aramen boarded a "ship" alongside a few other sailors.

" _The following day I shipped to sea_

 _With a privateer_

 _And in the whistle of the wind_

 _I could almost hear_

 _(Oh, oh)"_

A floating ghost-looking version of the woman floated over Aramen's head, singing.

 _"Find him, bind him_

 _Tie him to a pole and break_

 _His fingers to splinters_

 _Drag him to a hole until he_

 _Wakes up naked_

 _Clawing at the ceiling_

 _Of his grave"_

The ghost woman floated down in front of Aramen and placed her hand on his cheek.

" _There is one thing I must say to you_

 _As you sail across the sea_

 _Always, your mother will watch over you_

 _As you avenge this wicked deed"_

Now, Mikael stood in another "ship" on the other side of the stage with a crew of sailors, same as Aramen.

 _And then, that fateful night_

 _We had you in our sight_

 _After twenty months at sea_

 _Your starboard flank abeam_

 _I was getting my crossbow cleaned_

 _When came this rumbling from beneath"_

Everyone on stage looked around as a rumbling sound grew louder, a look that was nervously mirrored by some of the guests.

" _The ocean shook_

 _The sky went black_

 _And the captain quailed_

 _And before us grew_

 _The angry jaws_

 _Of a giant whale!"_

The ships were torn apart, ghost figures went flying every which way, Mikael even used a little conjuration to splash some water high into the air, sprinkling the people in the front a bit, to some's amusement and others' consternation. The lights dimmed, then grew back up to reveal the two of them sitting in the whale's belly again. Aramen stared down at the ground, while Mikael looked at him with great apprehension and fear.

" _Don't know how I survived_

 _The crew all was chewed alive_

 _I must have slipped between his teeth"_

Aramen looked up and grinned.

" _But, oh, what providence_

 _What divine intelligence_

 _That you should survive_

 _As well as me"_

Aramen stood and approached Mikael, who got up quickly and backed away before hitting a "wall".

" _It gives my heart great joy_

 _To see your eyes fill with fear_

 _So lean in close_

 _And I will whisper_

 _The last words you'll hear_

 _(Oh, oh)"_

As the instrumental picked up, Mikael tried to dodge away and was pursued by Aramen, the both of them running around and exchanging glancing blows until they both spotted a dagger. They leapt for it, wrestling on the ground as the music went faster and faster, a crescendo building until finally, the shorter twin got a hold of it and stood above Mikael. Aramen raised the knife, Mikael cowered and threw his hands up to protect him, and the stage went dark.

Dragonsreach was quiet for a moment, then a few claps emerged before a raucous applause filled the hall. The lights came back up, with the Twins standing side by side, smiling and bowing, dressed again in their normal attire.

* * *

 **Yeah, this Omake got a bit long trying to squeeze in two songs and stage direction.**

 **The end of the chapter itself? I dunno I suppose I just enjoy these more cliff-hangery stop points. My brother agrees. They're a good gap for the next chapter and hopefully entice you all to follow and review to see what happened next.  
Saw a lot of views coming from Poland, Indonesia, and Russia this past month. So once again, hello from the other side of the world! Nice to see we're all connected by love of fanfiction.**

 **In response to guest reviews for chapter 14: First, thanks for reviewing and second, yeah we were having some ideas like that when we first were coming up with this. Good on ya to spot the potential there.**

 **Something my Twin and I had been talking about was how exactly we were planning to blance this story in terms of wish-fulfillment VS reality check, and concluded that by this point, we're already far in the former category. Not to say we won't bring in some reality, but some things just are either too easy or go too well for our main characters to pretend it isn't firmly a story about enjoyment rather than intrigue.**

 **And finally, if it seems like this Author's Note is rambling on a bit, it's because it needed to because now, with this chapter, the story passes 100k words! Placing it in a distinct category of fanfiction that most others don't reach! Huzzah! Only took us 16 chapters...  
Cheers for reading, please review, take care folks!**

 **-Waki**


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